Second Childhood
by zelofheda-B
Summary: Spencer gets de-aged at the worst possible time, just after he's discovered that Hotch and JJ have been lying to him about Emily's death.
1. Chapter 1

I have written this story to the best of my knowledge and ability, so of course there will be mistakes. Constructive criticism is welcome, but please do not rant at me for not knowing everything that you know.

This is of course an AU starting at the beginning of Season 7. Hotch never went to Pakistan, the team was never disbanded, and Spencer spent time with both JJ and Hotch after Emily's 'death.'

* * *

The floor beneath Spencer's feet tilted suddenly and disappeared, and he couldn't help exclaiming in surprise as he felt himself drop. The space beneath was dark – no, it was full of blue light – and it seemed for one incredible moment that he was floating in it. There was pain, agony, a sensation of being pulled inside out, or no, a feeling of being squashed like Play-Doh in a child's fist, or no, a sudden awareness of what it must be like to be a black hole, already crushed into a tiny, tiny space but having everything in the universe, including light, including his scream, being pulled in to crush him even more –

And then the pressure eased, and he was falling again, and the landing was surprisingly soft. Spencer lay there gasping for a moment, feeling somehow as though he'd been squashed smaller than when he'd started to fall. The blue light was still shining above, almost painful to look at, so he squinted and turned his head away. Something hard poked his jaw and he heard a squawk of "Reid? Reid?"

Oh, right. He must have lost his earpiece in the fall – and knocked his contacts loose as well. He could feel them scraping his eyeballs where they shouldn't be, and everything looked weird. Funny, that had never happened before. Trying hard not to blink and make things worse, Spencer raised his hand to adjust them, and was surprised to see that a huge swath of blurry fabric came with it. Was that his shirt? Had it come off in that strange tunnel of blue light? It looked more like it had stretched somehow, or maybe that was just the way the light was refracted down here, but no, that didn't make sense. He shook his arm until the sleeve fell back to his elbow, then reached for his eyes. No matter how he adjusted his contacts, though, he still couldn't see properly, and to make things worse, the lenses also seemed way too big and scratchy.

Once he'd noticed it, Spencer suddenly couldn't keep his contacts in any longer. He took them out and cradled them carefully in one hand, then used the other to reach for his earpiece and held it to his ear. Hotch was calmly asking for an update, and Reid activated his microphone.

"I'm okay," he said. His voice sounded strangely high and child-like. "I fell through a trapdoor, but I'm fine."

There was silence, and then Spencer heard a door opening behind him. He quickly rolled over so that he could see if it was friend or foe, and relaxed once he recognized JJ. Of course it had to be JJ, the last person he wanted to see. Her very presence irked him; he'd much rather have seen Morgan or Rossi.

"Who was that?" he heard someone ask through the earpiece. At the same time, JJ gave Spencer a friendly smile and reached out her free hand, holstering her gun with the other one. Spencer blinked, realizing he could see her almost clearly, even without his contacts. Weird.

"Hi, my name's Jennifer, I'm with the FBI," JJ said, sounding as calm and reassuring as though she were dealing with a child victim. Spencer shot her an impatient look, then realized there might be somebody else in the room that he hadn't noticed, and glanced around as much as he could. Nope, nobody else. Was she pranking him? It seemed more like something Morgan would do.

"Can you tell me your name?" JJ continued on in that tone of voice that was sickeningly sweet enough to grate on Spencer's nerves. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," Spencer snapped. "I mean, look, I landed on this!"

"This" was a huge foam mat that took up most of the floor space. Far above, he could still see the tunnel of the blue light that he'd fallen through – it had felt much longer at the time, but from below it looked surprisingly small – and there were the walls, and JJ, and nothing else. JJ looked strange, though, different from the last time he'd seen her. Taller, somehow. A lot taller. It had to be an optical illusion, Spencer thought.

"Okay, you're not hurt, that's good. Can you tell me your name?" JJ asked again, still using that voice.

"Would you cut it out?" Spencer demanded. Things were getting too weird and it was making him irritable. He tried to get up, feeling as though he were tangled in swaths of fabric, and managed to get to his hands and knees. In the slight dimples he'd formed in the foam mat, something shifted towards his knee. He glanced down, saw his gun, and reached for it automatically.

"If you can tell me who you are," JJ was saying, "we can get you back to your mommy and daddy-"

"Mommy and daddy?" Spencer mocked, picking the revolver up. JJ stopped abruptly as he tried to get a better grip on it, and he let his own voice trail off. This couldn't be his gun, it was much too big for his hand, and his hand – his hand looked so small and his fingers so thin and undefined, and his sleeve was slipping down again, and it was so big – so big – and –

"Honey, give me the gun," JJ said, and before Spencer could react, she had taken it out of his grip.

"Hey!" Spencer's voice came out as a high squeak, not at all conveying his outrage. He stared at her in amazement. Her hand had been larger than his, so much larger, and though he'd tried to hang on, she'd managed to pull the weapon from his hand. His tiny, tiny hand. He looked at it again, then struggled to his knees and looked down at himself properly for the first time since landing. His FBI ballistic vest hung to mid-thigh and his sleeves reached the mat, his hands ending where he'd normally expect his elbows to be. As he stared, he felt an sliding sensation around his waist and realized that his trousers and his underwear were starting to slip down.

"What's your name?" JJ asked, sitting down on the mat next to him. The motion caused Spencer to rock and his trousers shifted alarmingly. He made a grab for his waistband, but his hand collided with his vest and he barely got it around to the side in time to catch the escaping clothing. His feet were trapped in the long pant legs; his shoes were somewhere else on the mat.

"Oh, give up, Jennifer!" he snapped, using her full name in annoyance. He still sounded like a little boy. "I'm Spencer! Dr. Spencer Reid. Remember me, we were friends until you lied to me for months, told me Emily was dead when she was really alive, and all the time you two were playing Scrabble online?" His voice went even higher at the end and it made him wince.

Open-mouthed, shocked speechless, JJ stared at his face, then down at the letters across the front of his vest, and then at his face again. "You … what … You can't be Spencer. You're … four years old?"

"I'm not four, I'm twenty _nine_! I fell through this trapdoor and there was a tunnel of blue light, and I don't know what happened or why I'm so small, but I'm still me, I'm still Spencer Reid!"

Slowly, obviously searching for words, JJ reached for her microphone, but before she could say anything, somebody else burst into the room, squealing in delight.

"It worked! It worked! Oh, my g-d, it finally worked this time!"

The man – it had to be Dr Sakenfeld – rushed towards Spencer, his hands outstretched and a greedy look of delight on his face as though he wanted to snatch Spencer up and kiss him, or worse. Spencer ducked defensively away behind JJ, but the doctor pushed her aside so hard that she hit the floor. His other hand caught Spencer by his sleeve, and for a moment, Spencer thought he could wriggle out of his clothes and get free. But then Dr Sakenfeld grabbed the back of his vest, jerked him upright and managed to envelope him in a "straitjacket" hug that pinned both his arms across his chest. With panic and adrenaline racing through him, Spencer drummed his heels into the man's thighs as Dr Sakenfeld rushed out of the room, but only succeeded in flinging off his trousers and his underpants.

"FBI, freeze!" JJ commanded from behind, and there was a familiar voice from ahead, too. "Ryan Sakenfeld, FBI! Put the child down!"

Dr Sakenfeld finally stopped, and Spencer recognized Hotch, his gun pointing directly at them. Two policemen from the local law enforcement agency that the FBI was working with for this particular case approached from behind Hotch, spreading out and weaving through the various pieces of equipment in the huge, haphazard-looking lab, but keeping their guns pointed at both Dr Sakenfeld and Spencer.

"Just let me check him over, see how perfectly it worked," Dr Sakenfeld pleaded, squeezing Spencer even tighter. "Just an hour! One more hour, I'll give myself up after I've had just one hour to check the results …"

An hour of letting this man 'check him over?' Spencer kicked him again, trying to aim for the doctor's crotch, but either he missed, or it didn't make an impression. He couldn't believe how small and helpless he felt, how easily he'd been overpowered.

"We'll check him over," Hotch told him. "Just let the boy go and we'll take it from here."

"No, you have to let me scan him!" Dr Sakenfeld protested, turning towards one of the larger machines. Spencer wasn't sure what kind of scanner it was; parts of it looked familiar, but it had been modified into something else. Remembering the tunnel of blue light, and the feeling of being crushed in a black hole, Spencer thought the scanner looked distinctly malevolent, and kicked out again.

More members of the team were coming down the stairs now. Spencer squinted for a better look, identifying the fuzzy figures as Emily first, then Morgan, Rossi, and another policeman. Remembering his contacts, he realized he'd let go of them in all the confusion, but it was hardly something to be worried about, not while he was in the face of being experimented on by an evil scientist, or worse, getting caught in any crossfire.

"You can't shoot me without hitting the kid," Dr Sakenfeld announced, taking another step.

"I can," JJ pointed out.

Dr Sakenfeld turned to include her in his field of vision just as Hotch said, "If you want to scan him, you're going to have to let go of him eventually."

"Then I'll take him with me," Dr Sakenfeld threatened. "A hostage."

Spencer bent his head forward, then thrust it back with all his might, hitting the doctor in the chin with the back of his skull. After a muffled curse, Dr Sakenfeld let go of him with one hand and smacked him on the thigh, hard enough to make Spencer cry out. Then there was a gunshot, and Dr Sakenfeld dropped to the floor, losing his grip on Spencer at the same time.

Spencer scrambled away, almost tripping over his clothes and his own feet, then squawked in surprise as he was lifted up again.

"I've got you," said Hotch, cuddling Spencer to his chest. "You're okay, buddy."

Spencer looked down to see Dr Sakenfeld curled on the floor, holding his leg where it looked like he'd been shot in the calf, and glaring up at JJ.

"You shot me!" he gasped. "You shot me!"

"It's just a graze," she replied.

"We need medical assistance," Spencer heard one of the officers say. "Down in the basement."

Realizing how close the bullet had come to his own leg, Spencer glanced down, but couldn't see any blood or feel any kind of injury.

"Put me down," he told Hotch, ignoring the fact that he'd lost both his socks somewhere along the way as well. "I'm all right, I'm fine. I can walk on my own."

"Spence, you haven't got any shoes on," JJ pointed out.

"I don't care, just put me down," Spencer repeated. "Hotch, it's embarrassing to have your boss hold you like a baby."

After staring at him for a very long moment, Hotch leaned over and placed him gently on his feet, then turned to JJ, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

"I'm Spencer Reid," Spencer said, and JJ said almost the same thing simultaneously.

That can't be Reid," Morgan said.

"Believe me, it is," JJ said.

"I'm still me. I've still got my PhD's and my eidetic memory," Spencer said, "and I can still read 20 000 words a minute – well, I could if I had my glasses or if my contacts still fit."

The expression on Hotch's face changed from astonishment to anger, and he strode over to where Dr Sakenfeld was grimacing in pain. "What have you done to my agent?"

"I de-aged him," Dr Sakenfeld snarled, and Emily laughed in disbelief. "What?"

"I de-aged him," Dr Sakenfeld repeated, reiterating the words slowly and carefully as though speaking to idiots. "Made. Him. Younger. Everybody could profit from having twenty five years taken off their life!"

"Everybody over the age of fifty, you mean," Morgan corrected him. "Not twenty-nine-year-old kids!"

"Can you reverse it?" Hotch asked.

"Why on earth would I want to do that?"

"Because one of my best agents is now four years old!" Hotch sounded dangerously close to exploding.

Dr Sakenfeld glanced briefly at Spencer, then looked away and whined, "I haven't got that far yet! I've only just perfected this part of it – at least, I hope it's perfect. Be grateful he's not dead – that's what happened to my first two subjects before I realized what changes I had to make. And then the next one got de-aged too much, and the one after that broke her neck in the fall through the processor."

Spencer felt panic welling up in him at the entire situation.

"Yes," Hotch said in his coldest, most serious voice. "We know. We found them."

"What do you mean, _fall _through the processor?" Rossi spoke up for the first time.

"Because the subjects has to be not only completely ungrounded but also completely free of anything whatsoever touching the earth, or else the processor goes all skeewampus. Yes, that's a technical term, in case you were wondering – well, one that your brains will be able to understand. Anyway, I was too busy working on the de-aging part to worry about making the subjects be able to fly, so I thought freefall would do the job. Not enough room for a parachute, so I got the mat, and made a trapdoor so I wouldn't have to push anybody else and risk falling down myself. And see? It worked! This subject is alive, walking and talking, and twenty five years younger!"

Trying hard not to sound like he was going to cry, Spencer asked, "Are there any side effects from this? And is it permanent or will it wear off eventually?"

"I don't know!" Dr Sakenfeld protested, looking over Spencer's head to the rest of the team. "You guys shot me before I could do any follow-up scans! Now look, I'm bleeding here, and obviously the subject would have expired by now if anything had gone really wrong, so I want some medical treatment before I answer any more questions."

Hotch indicated the policemen. "You guys can take it from here. Just … don't talk about this to the press, or anybody else. Consider it completely confidential. My team, upstairs."

"De-aging, huh?" one of the policemen muttered, and the other added, "If that really worked …"

"I could use another test subject if you're interested," Dr Sakenfeld suggested, the whine in his voice turning suddenly to hopeful anticipation. Both policemen glanced over to Spencer and obviously found the current consequences too horrifying to contemplate. For his part, Spencer felt an uncharacteristically strong urge to shoot the doctor in the other leg, but remembered that JJ had his gun. He turned to look at her, wondering if he could get it back.

"I'll help you get your clothes, Spence," JJ said, already leaning over to get his trousers. One sock fell out as she picked them up, and she grabbed that, too.

"I can manage." Spencer glanced around for his other sock, but Morgan got there first, and JJ was almost as fast retrieving his shoes. Left with nothing else to do, Spencer tried to hang back and go last as they headed to the stairs, but Morgan ushered him ahead of the others. He could feel them staring, no doubt profiling his younger self as he climbed each step.

"He's so cute!" Emily whispered once they reached the top, but Spencer still heard, and turned to glare at her. Then his bare foot caught in the hem of his shirt, he tripped, and his forehead slammed into the corner of a cabinet. Pain exploded through his skull and he dropped to the floor, clasping both hands to his face and screaming.

"Ouch, I'll bet that hurt!" Morgan exclaimed, picking him up for a full-body hug.

"Spence, you okay?" JJ asked, reaching out to stroke his hair. Spencer jerked his head away, which made it hurt even more, which made him bawl even louder. He buried his face in Morgan's other shoulder, ignoring how the strap of Morgan's ballistic vest scraped his cheek.

Rossi pushed by them. "I'll get the first aid kit."

And Hotch was there, too. "What happened?"

"He tripped and banged his head," Morgan explained, and Hotch grimaced in sympathy. "Reid, let me have a look."

Spencer took his hands away from his head. They were streaked with blood, and no doubt his forehead looked even worse, because Hotch said, "That might need stitches. I'll take him to the emergency room, and see if the doctors can check him over, too, while we're there, make sure he's all right otherwise."

"NO!" Spencer screamed. "No, Morgan, don't let Hotch take me. He'll send me to Paris and tell everybody that I'm dead, and I'll never see you again because you can't trust him or JJ. You can't trust them! Don't let them take me!"

Even as he was speaking, he knew logically that it didn't make sense, but he was so frightened that he just couldn't stop himself.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on, Pretty Boy, nobody's sending you to Paris," Morgan said, rubbing Spencer's back. "Nobody's going to fake your death."

"Reid –" Hotch began, then stopped and started again. "I understand why you feel you can't trust us, and we can talk about that later. And I can see you're hurt and scared. But I need to be the one to take you to ER because I am your healthcare proxy—"

"I don't need a healthcare proxy!" Spencer sobbed. "I'm not incapacitated! I'm still capable of making my own decisions!"

"You look like you're four years old, not to mention the way you're acting," Hotch stated, which made Spencer cry even more with anger, both at the rebuke and at the realization that he really was acting like a child. Hotch went on, "Now I'm sure that when you calm down, you'll realize that you cannot go to the ER by yourself, and Bureau regulations mandate a healthcare proxy for situations like these."

"I want to change my healthcare proxy to Morgan!"

"Well, we can't do that until we get back to the Bureau," Hotch said. "And in the meantime, you're bleeding, so we're going to the emergency room."

"Here, kid," said Rossi, appearing with a large white square in his hand. He pressed it gently to Spencer's forehead. Spencer batted his fingers away, the blood-smeared gauze fell onto Morgan's shoulder, and Spencer grabbed it again. "I can hold it myself!"

"Okay," Rossi agreed mildly, stepping back.

"Come on," said Hotch, reaching out and clearly expecting Spencer to transfer himself from Morgan's arms to his. To Spencer's dismay, Morgan helped hand him over, and Spencer wasn't even fast enough to get a grip on the other man's shirt.

"I can walk by myself, too," Spencer grumbled as Hotch settled him on his hip.

"Says the kid who just tripped and banged his head," Morgan teased.

"Emily distracted me! She said I was cute!" Spencer shot back, and didn't understand why everybody chuckled, even Hotch.

"We're going outside, and you don't have any shoes on," Hotch told him.

"Hotch, I can go shopping, get him some clothes that fit," JJ volunteered.

"Yes, that's good. We'll meet back at the hotel," Hotch agreed, and turned to the door.

Outside, Hotch opened the back door of the SUV and set Spencer on the seat. After a moment, he gently undid Spencer's ballistic vest and pulled it off, accidentally grazing Spencer's forehead and making him cry out even louder. Finally, he reached for the seatbelt and buckled him in. The chest belt went right up across Spencer's neck and under his ear, and he realized he could be decapitated by it if they were to get into an accident. Wondering if he could trust Hotch enough not to get in an accident, Spencer sobbed some more, and wriggled his arm through so that the belt sat lower on his chest.

"You'll be all right, Reid," Hotch said.


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, I changed the title from Crybaby to Second Childhood, because I thought Crybaby was too negative.

This is a slightly AU version of SHIELD, with the acronym standing for Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, as it was determined in 1991, before the Marvel Cinematic Universe changed it, and yes, it was originally meant to handle paranormal and superhuman threats. Everything else is my own invention.

* * *

By the time they got to the emergency room, Spencer had managed to stop crying despite the ache in his forehead. At the desk, Hotch explained that his son, Jack, had been abducted and had banged his head during the rescue. They didn't have to wait very long for a nurse to lead them into a cubicle and provide Spencer with a brightly printed hospital gown.

Once Spencer was laying down on the examination bed, the nurse reached over and plucked a few stray hairs away from the wound on his forehead. "Wow, looks like you really banged your head there, little man. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I tripped and fell against the corner of a cabinet. It was very sharp," Spencer replied, realizing for the first time that people would now be calling him "little man" and other child-appropriate terms of endearment, instead of "Dr. Reid." He didn't want to think about it.

"Well, the doctor will be here soon, and we'll get you fixed up and feeling better in no time!"

After the nurse had gone out again, Spencer miserably turned his head away from Hotch and closed his eyes, thinking. What if they couldn't change him back and he had to grow up a second time? Worse – what if he were stuck in this five-year-old body _forever? _ And why did it have to happen now, when he was already dealing with the fact that half the team had lied to him? The thought of having to be dependent on somebody he could no longer trust was sickening. He tried to tell himself that he'd survive, if only because he'd grown up that way. With his mother suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and forgetting to take her pills most of the time, he hadn't been able to trust her to do anything for him. But he'd never expected anything else for the simple reason that he'd never known her any other way. In comparison, he had trusted Hotch, JJ, and Emily, and their betrayal had wounded his soul all the more because he hadn't seen it coming.

Eventually, a matronly-looking female doctor came in, checked Spencer all over for any signs of violence or abuse after his "abduction," then finally focused on the gash on Spencer's head. "Did he lose consciousness?"

"No," said Spencer quickly, and Hotch smiled a little, then answered the same thing.

Spencer forced himself to keep quiet after that, letting Hotch explain that no, he hadn't shown any signs of dizziness or vomiting, didn't seem unusually sleepy or sensitive to noise or light, and his speech was not slurred.

"Well, I think we'll just stitch this up, then, and you can go home in a few minutes," the doctor announced.

"Maybe he should have an X-ray," Hotch suggested. "A CAT scan."

"I don't think so," the doctor said. "He's not showing any signs of concussion. Keep an eye on him, of course, and if his condition changes for the worse, bring him in again, but I think he'll be all right."

She went out, and after saying brightly, "I'll be right back," the nurse followed. Any other time, Spencer would have remarked on Hotch acting like an over-protective parent, and maybe thrown in some statistics for good measure, but he really didn't feel like speaking nicely to his boss just at the moment.

The nurse came back in with a tray of supplies. "All right, Jack, I'm going to give you a little shot in your forehead to take the pain away. It'll just be a little pinprick, won't hurt much at all. Do you want to sit on Daddy's lap?"

"No," Spencer said, trying not to snap.

"Going to be a brave boy, huh? Okay, here we go. You can close your eyes if you want." She steadied his head with one hand and pricked the skin carefully with the needle. Spencer winced as it went in, but managed not to make a sound.

While they were waiting for the topical anaesthetic to take effect, Spencer heard Hotch's phone buzz. He glanced over to see the man take it out, decline the call, then put it away again.

The nurse had just started the first stitch when the phone buzzed again.

"Go ahead if you have to take it," Spencer said, sounding more petulant than he meant to, and it seemed for a moment that Hotch actually would excuse himself. But then he stopped and, to Spencer's amazement, turned his phone right off.

"I don't have to take it," Hotch declared. "You're more important right now."

Spencer looked away. The nurse finished the stitches, put a bandage across the wound, then smiled brightly. "All done! Now I've got a lollipop here for such a brave boy. What's your favourite flavour?"

"Coffee," Spencer replied automatically, and the nurse laughed.

"I don't think we have coffee flavoured lollipops," she said, sorting through the box. "Would you prefer cola or strawberry?"

Spencer took the cola-flavoured lollipop. Sugar was sugar, and he could at least pretend it had caffeine. "Thank you."

Then he had to change back from the hospital gown to the overlarge shirt, and let Hotch pick him up again to walk back to the car. When they were both settled in the SUV, Hotch turned his phone back on, and almost immediately, it buzzed again.

"You'd better get that." Spencer took out his lollipop to speak. "What if it's Emily, pretending to be dead again?"

"Reid," Hotch said warningly, but he took the call. It must have been somebody official, because he answered it by saying, "This is Agent Hotchner."

He listened, then asked, "You know what he was working on?" A long pause, and then he nodded. "Yes, one of my agents." Pause. "No, he seems to be fine, except for the fact that he looks like he's four years old." Pause. "Twenty nine." Short pause. "That would be good." Another pause. "Well, we can certainly bring him in when we get back to Quantico." Pause. "All right, we can do that. What's your ETA?"

Hotch looked back at Spencer. "That was SHIELD. Dr Sakenfeld was working for them, until he went rogue. They'll be taking him into custody as soon as they get here."

Although SHIELD officially stood for Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, Spencer had heard both students and professors at Cal-Tech derisively referring to it as Strange (or Spooky or Supernatural) Happenings In Every Last Doghouse. It dealt with paranormal and superhuman matters, and Spencer had never been attracted to working with that kind of thing. His only interest in the recently re-discovered Captain America had been to idly wonder once or twice how Steve Rogers was getting along psychologically, dealing with the transition from the 1940's to the modern world.

"They want to check you over, too, run some tests," Hotch went on. "See what Dr Sakenfeld did."

Spencer sighed. "And I suppose my healthcare proxy has to come with me."

"Reid, I'm sure you have the Bureau regulations memorized," Hotch said, which was true, so naturally, Spencer took a moment to check for loopholes.

"You could let me go by myself if we claim I'm on loan to SHIELD as a consultant," he suggested.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere by yourself," Hotch said.

"Before we go, can I borrow your phone?" Spencer asked. "I want to tell Morgan where you're taking me."

"I'm taking you back to the hotel first, Reid," Hotch said, but then he handed over the phone anyway, and started the engine.

Spencer dialled, and Morgan answered on the first ring. "Hey, man, what's up? How's Reid?"

"I'm fine," Spencer said.

"Oh, hey, Pretty Boy, how's your head? How many stitches did you get?"

"Three, and no concussion, and I even got a lollipop." He heard Morgan chuckle. "But listen. Hotch has been talking to somebody from SHIELD. Dr Sakenfeld used to work for them, but then he went rogue. Now they want to run some tests on me."

"That's good!" Morgan exclaimed. "Maybe they can find a way to reverse the process."

"Maybe," Spencer said. "But they'll need time to gather and correlate his data to even understand what he was doing and how he was doing it. And they'll want to replicate the results, too, before they try to reverse anything. Hopefully they'll test it using pigs or something else instead of people."

"So you might be stuck like this for a while," Morgan said. "Are we talking weeks here? Months?"

"I don't know," Spencer said."I hope it's not years, Morgan, I don't want to go through _puberty_ again!"

Morgan laughed out loud at that. "I hear ya, kid!"

But from Spencer's point of view, it wasn't funny, it was frighteningly possible, and one fear was leading to another. "Morgan, Hotch _says _he's taking me back to the hotel, but if something happens –"

"Pretty Boy, you're not still worried about Hotch and JJ sending you away and faking your death, are you?" Morgan interrupted. "Now, look, I know I've had problems with the way this whole Emily thing was handled, too, and I know you've just been de-aged – man, I can't believe I'm saying that – but try to think logically and rationally for a moment. Why would they do such a thing to you? There's nobody chasing you, nobody like Ian Doyle who wants you dead, is there?"

"No," Spencer had to admit. But fear wasn't rational or logical. "I just – Morgan, I feel like I can't trust them anymore. They lied to me, both of them. I visited JJ every week since Emily – since they told us she was dead – and I went to Hotch's pretty often, too, and they never once told me the truth, they just let me cry!"

"I know," Morgan said with a heartfelt sigh. "I know."

"They could have trusted me! I wouldn't have betrayed Emily!"

"I know," Morgan said again.

"What if I'd started using Dilaudid again to help with the pain?" Spencer went on. "Would they have let me? Would they have let it get that far?"

"You didn't-?"

"No, but I thought about it," Spencer said. "More than once. It just hurt so bad. Do you know the only reason I didn't start using again?"

"No, kid, what?"

"Because I didn't want Emily to be disappointed in me. I mean, I don't know what I believe about the afterlife, if there even is one, but it still kinda felt like … I didn't want to dishonour her memory."

"That's a good reason, kid." Morgan sighed. "I'm glad you didn't go that far."

"And now it turns out she was alive the whole time and –" At the sudden lack of motion, Spencer stopped and looked around. He'd forgotten he was in the SUV with Hotch, and now they were in the hotel parking lot.

"They made the wrong call," Morgan was saying. "They hurt all of us, kid, not just you."

"We're here," Spencer said. "Morgan, let's talk about this later."

He disconnected before Morgan could reply, and wriggled his way out of the seatbelt, but when he opened the door, Hotch was already standing there.

"Reid, if you were thinking about taking Dilaudid again, why didn't you tell me, or JJ, or somebody?" he asked.

"Would it have made a difference?" Spencer asked. "If I'd told you I was craving, or if I'd actually taken some, would you have broken down and said, "hey, Reid, guess what, Emily's been alive all along and all your pain's been for nothing"? Would you have said that, Hotch? Would JJ have?"

"If I could have foreseen this, I would have," Hotch said. "And I wish now that I had."

"Hotch, can you honestly tell me you wouldn't have let me destroy myself just because of Emily?" Spencer asked. And without hesitation, Hotch looked into his eyes and said, "I wouldn't have, Reid. I would not have let you destroy yourself."

It was so unexpected that Spencer gaped at him for a long moment. He'd expected Hotch to prevaricate at best, or just say nothing instead of denying it.

"I knew you were grieving, and I hated having to hurt you, but I thought you were dealing with it," Hotch said. "I guess I didn't realize how much pain you were in."

"Did you think it wasn't like you and Haley?" Spencer asked. "That I didn't miss her as much as you missed your wife, because I wasn't married to Emily, because we hadn't had a kid together?"

Hotch grimaced slightly. "Something like that."

"Sometimes, maybe, friendship can go deeper than marriage," Spencer said. "And she was my friend, Hotch! I don't have many friends, not enough that I can afford to lose any of them, and now I feel like I've lost three of you, even though you're all here, you're all still alive."

"I did what I thought was best at the time, and I apologize," Hotch said. "I'm so sorry I put you through all this. I'm sorry I lied and I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I should have."

"That doesn't make it all better," Spencer protested. His voice came out close to a whine.

"No, it doesn't," Hotch agreed. "But it's all I can do for now."

Then he reached out both arms. "I hope you can trust me enough to carry you up to the hotel room."

"Yeah," Spencer replied, letting Hotch pick him up. "But that's about all the trust I can give you."

"Then I'll start with that," Hotch said.

xxxxx

Spencer expected Hotch to take him to his own hotel room, but instead, he knocked on JJ's door. She answered almost immediately and smiled widely when she saw them. "Come in! I've got some clothes for you, Spence."

The rest of the team was there as well, and when everybody but Rossi pulled out their phones for pictures, Spencer realized they'd all been waiting.

"Smile, Pretty Boy," Morgan told him, which made Spencer scowl. "Yeah, gonna send this one to Garcia."

"You know what they say, pics or it didn't happen," Emily put in.

Hotch deposited Spencer on the bed next to two big shopping bags, and JJ immediately started to unpack them. "Jeans, shirts, here's a button-down sweater in your size, I've got some underwear –"

"Sword-Swinging Cats?" Spencer asked, looking at the logo on the front of the package. "What's that?"

"It's a television show for kids," JJ explained.

"So naturally all the cool kids are wearing them." That was Emily again – maybe she'd been the one to pick them out.

"Since when have I ever cared what the cool kids are wearing?" Spencer demanded, checking out the selection of socks. At least here there were several different colours to choose from so that he could mix them up the way he liked. It was good luck to wear mismatched socks.

"Henry wears them," JJ said. "He loves the Cat Pack."

"Jack's got some, too," Hotch added. "One time he said I should get some armour like Christian Puffwhiskers so I wouldn't get hurt again."

"Aww, that's so sweet," Emily said.

Spencer didn't think that it was at all sweet to be wearing the same kind of underwear as his his own godson, let alone his boss's son, but at least it was better than running around commando in a loose shirt that covered him from head to foot and then some. He grabbed a selection of clothes and slid down off the bed to change in the bathroom.

All of the clothes were a little big, but at least they didn't flap like a tent in the wind. Once he was dressed, Spencer tried to get a look at himself in the mirror, but it was too high up. He put the toilet seat down and climbed up on it, then leaned over as much as he could. But the mirror was too far away, and all he could see was part of a blurred face with a blurred white spot at the top, where his bandage was, and blurry hair. Sighing, he got down again and went out, even managing an embarrassed little smile when the others took more pictures.

"Don't you look nice," JJ said. "Here, try the shoes."

Spencer pulled on the pair of sneakers, and JJ even knelt down and felt for his big toe with her thumb to determine how much room there was between it and the end of the shoe, just as though they were at the shoe store.

"How do they feel?" she asked.

"All right," he said. Even though he still felt hurt by her betrayal, she had done something nice for him, something that he'd really needed, and so, grudgingly, he added, "Thank you."

"We've got all your old stuff here," she said, indicating something farther away on the bed. Despite the slightly fuzzy outlines, Spencer recognized his go-bag and his messenger bag.

"Thanks," he said again, then looked up at his boss. "Um, Hotch, I'm going to need new glasses."

"Oh," Hotch said in surprise. "I'm afraid that's going to have to wait until after SHIELD's checked you over and we get back home."

Either Morgan had already alerted the team to SHIELD's involvement, or Hotch had told them while Spencer was in the bathroom, because nobody questioned the mention of the other agency.

"I can manage," Spencer said quickly. "It's not as bad as when I was, um, older. I can still read."

He'd practiced on one of the tattered old magazines in the waiting room at the ER. He'd had to hold the pages closer to his face, of course, but he could still read.

"Everybody take a seat," Hotch said, and the team found places to sit that would still allow them to look at him. Spencer climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Morgan, who put a hand on his shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

"So SHIELD will be here soon," Hotch went on, "but I hope we have time to discuss a few things before then. First off, I want to apologize to all of you for lying about what happened to Emily."

Astonished that Hotch was bringing the subject up in front of the team after he'd already apologized to Spencer in person, Spencer looked from him to JJ, and saw a mixture of surprise and relief on her face.

"You made the wrong call by not trusting us," Morgan said, repeating what he'd already said to Spencer on the phone.

"I know," Hotch admitted. "I thought I was doing the right thing to keep her safe, but now I realize that my actions are having consequences that hurt some of you and could tear this team apart. I want to prevent that, and repair anything that's broken. I already know that Reid doesn't trust me anymore. Morgan?"

"I was hurt, man," Morgan said. "And I'll admit, I felt a little betrayed, but not as much as Reid here. I still trust you to have my back in the field, Hotch, but, hey, if you ever tell me again that someone I know is dead, I'll want to see the body."

"And I will let you see it," Hotch said.

"I apologize as well," JJ said, turning her gaze to Spencer. "I felt so bad, watching you cry –"

"If you're going to say that it hurt you more than it hurt me, then don't," Spencer told her.

"I wasn't going to say that. I wanted to tell you, the whole time, but I just couldn't," JJ explained. "And I'm sorry. Do you think you can forgive me?"

"No," Spencer said truthfully. "And I can't trust you anymore, either. Not right now, anyway."

Visibly hurt, JJ looked away, and there was an awkward silence in the room before Hotch took up the team interrogation again.

"Rossi?" he asked.

"I had an inkling," Rossi said, and when Spencer glared him in shock, he defended himself. "I'm good at what I do. Not saying you're not good at it, too, but I do have more experience than you."

"Emily—" Hotch started to ask, but was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. He lifted it out of his pocket for a look, then said, "SHIELD. They were faster than I'd thought they'd be. All right, the rest of you can finish up here and take the jet home. I'm accompanying Reid to SHIELD for his tests, and we can talk more about this, and the entire Reid situation, when we get back. Reid, get your things."

"You might need these," Emily said, quickly stuffing the remaining child-sized clothes into Spencer's go-bag.

"Thanks," he murmured, and tried to pick it up at the same time as his messenger bag. They were both surprisingly heavy, or rather, he reminded himself, his five-year-old body was smaller and weaker, and now his messenger bag dangled around his ankles instead of his hips. He'd have to be careful not to trip on it, he thought, he didn't want to end up in the ER again, even if they did hand out cola-flavoured lollipops.

"Need some help, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asked, taking both bags from him.

"Yeah," Spencer admitted. "Thanks, Morgan."

Out in the corridor, they waited for Hotch to open his own room and get his own go-bag. Spencer looked up at Morgan. "I wish you were coming with me, instead of Hotch."

"I wish I were, too, kid." Morgan opened Spencer's bag and rummaged around until he found Spencer's phone. "Here, keep this close, and call me whenever you want."

Spencer stuffed the phone into the pocket of his jeans, where it just barely fit. "Okay, but Morgan? Please make sure you insist on seeing my body if –"

"I will, but you know what? I truly believe you'll be safe with Hotch now. I can tell he's trying to make up for this whole situation," Morgan said.

"Yeah, it's just that - I don't know why I'm so scared of him and JJ doing something that means I never get to see you again," Spencer admitted.

"Don't you think being turned into a four-year-old could have something to do with it?" Morgan grinned. "Maybe you still have your intellect and your memories, but maybe your emotions got a little de-aged, too?"

"I never thought of that," Spencer said, and when Morgan reached out to tousle his hair, he didn't even try to duck away. He was still thinking it over when Hotch emerged and they went down to the lobby.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everybody who has read and reviewed, and favourited and followed! Big hug!

* * *

Hotch and JJ both pushed Spencer at the same time, and he fell into the circle of blue lights, except that they went out, and everything was dark, and he couldn't even see their faces anymore, and he was alone, all alone in the completely black hole, and he screamed and screamed and –

"Jack?"

A light went on, and over his crying, he could hear the same sleepy voice say, "Reid – Spencer."

Then Hotch gathered him up and hugged him tight, rocking slightly from side to side. "Spencer, it's all right, it was just a dream, it's okay, you're safe."

"Don't leave me alone," Spencer sobbed, clinging to Hotch with both arms and legs. "Not in the black hole!"

"You're not alone, and you're not in a black hole. You're safe, I've got you. Everything's all right." Hotch held him close and continued to speak soothing phrases until Spencer was finally able to comprehend what he was saying and what had happened.

"I had a bad dream," he finally said.

"You sure did," Hotch affirmed. He still sounded like he was talking to his son.

"Where are we?" Spencer looked around. In the light of the small lamp, he could see utilitarian-looking beds, nighttables, desks, chairs, and wardrobes; one side of the room mirroring the other. It was nothing like the blue tunnel of lights or the room with the big mat; it reminded him more of a university dormitory

"At one of SHIELD's research facilities. You fell asleep in the Quinjet."

Spencer remembered the Quinjet, how one of the SHIELD agents had found a first-aid kit and a box of emergency protein bars for him to sit on so that the shoulder harness would fit. Another agent had gotten fast food for everybody, and they'd eaten while still on the ground, waiting for the rest of the SHIELD team to arrive. They'd finally come, carrying Dr Sakenfeld on a stretcher between them. He looked like they'd dragged him straight out of the OR, and even though Dr Sakenfeld was obviously asleep, Spencer was glad to see he'd been handcuffed to the stretcher as well. The agents had fastened the stretcher to the floor, and then they'd lifted off.

"What time is it now?"

Hotch's grip shifted slightly as he moved his wrist to check his watch. "About two thirty a.m. Do you think you could go back to sleep for a while?"

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"It's over here." Hotch carried him over to one of two doors at the end of the room, and switched on the light before putting him down. Even though it was still weird to be carried around by his boss, or at least it was still weird when he stopped to think about it, Spencer also noticed that every bit of his skin that had been contact with Hotch felt suddenly deprived and anxious for more touch. Firmly, he shut the door between them.

When Spencer came out again, Hotch was back in bed with his head propped up on one hand.

"I always tell Jack that talking about the bad dream makes it go away and never come back," he said.

"Does it work?" Spencer asked.

"I think so," Hotch replied. "He never has the same bad dream twice, but one or two have been a bit similar. Do you want to try it out?"

"No." Spencer went over to his own bed and lifted the covers to get in. He'd barely placed his head on the pillow, though, when Hotch turned the lamp off, plunging the room back into absolute darkness. Sitting up in panic, he screeched, "Turn it back on, turn it back on!"

The light came back on instantly.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking," Hotch said, then added, "You can come sleep in my bed, if it will make you feel better."

"I—I'll be okay," Spencer said, but he stayed awake for a long time after Hotch had fallen asleep again.

The next day was filled with one test after another, medical procedures that ranged from simple to complicated, as well as cognitive and physical assessments. They even ran a few experiments on his emotions, the results of which confirmed Morgan's theory that they had been de-aged, too. Hotch insisted that Spencer have at least fifteen minutes break after each test, sometimes longer, and every so often, made him go outside and walk around the buiilding as well, to "get the wiggles out."

By the time Hotch dragged him outside in the afternoon for a yet another lap around the research centre, Spencer was starting to feel rebellious.

"I'd rather read a book for my break, Hotch, that's more fun. Walking around the building is boring!"

"We don't have to walk," Hotch said. "You can run, and I'll chase you, and every time I catch you, we can take a selfie for Je – for Garcia."

"I'm walking, I'm walking, see," Spencer replied, setting off. Hotch grabbed him anyway, held him up, and pointed his phone at both their faces.

"Come on, smile," he urged as Spencer frowned in the direction of the screen.

"I don't want to – Hotch, stop tickling me!" Spencer couldn't help laughing, even as he squirmed to be set free. Hotch got two pictures, then finally put him down, and Spencer stomped away. "That's not fair, Hotch!"

"No, but it was fun," Hotch grinned.

"So is reciting all the digits in pi," Spencer shot back. But on his way around the building, he realized Hotch had been suggesting something he regularly did with his son. His first reaction was guilt for being the sole reason that Hotch was away from Jack, but then he felt a powerful though short-lived wave of glee that the other man was hurting, even just a little bit, after he'd hurt Spencer so badly. Almost immediately, however, he remembered Hotch's apology and his willingness to make amends, and felt ashamed of his burst of schadenfreude.

The next day, when Hotch suggested a form of tag that included him having to run to and touch the nearest tree before trying to catch Spencer, obviously something else he did with Jack, Spencer agreed. Not wanting to feel as though he were merely assuaging his guilt, however, he made his agreement conditional on being allowed to spend their lunchtime reading a psychology textbook that he begged from one of the doctors. Unfortunately, the book contained very little that he hadn't come across before, and he found it just a little bit more satisfying to try and dodge out of Hotch's way, seeing how many times he could zig and zag before getting tagged. They both ended up smiling by the end of the last round.

The last of Spencer's tests ran longer than expected and they were late for supper in the SHIELD cafeteria. Spencer was hoping this meant that the crowd of SHIELD agents who just "happened" to be eating at the same time would be reduced, but they were gathered already, shamelessly waiting for yet another look at the boy wonder. It was like his first day at high school, over and over again, Spencer thought, keeping his gaze lowered as Hotch carried their tray of food to the only empty table. The SHIELD personal had gathered around every other table, ready to gawk at how Spencer climbed up onto a chair, ate his ravioli, chewed most of a salad, and drank his milk. Did they expect him to suddenly re-age, Spencer wondered, or turn into a green tentacled monster?

Then a young agent approached the table, staring fixedly at Hotch, and informed them that the one single Quinjet assigned to the research facility was otherwise in use. Someone would be available to drive them back to Quantico, but it would take closer to three hours instead of the scheduled thirty-minute flight. Spencer groaned quietly.

"We'll have to delay the team meeting I was hoping to have," Hotch said just as his phone buzzed. He checked the caller, then pressed the button.

"Hi, Rossi, I'm putting you on speaker."

"Hi, how's it going? Are they going to keep you much longer?"

"No, Reid's just finished the tests, we're driving home this evening."

"Did they say anything about the results yet?"

"They say everything looks normal for someone who's almost five, and they don't expect him to suddenly revert back to being twenty nine, or – anything else."

"He means they also don't think I'm going to suddenly drop dead, or even regress back to being a sperm and an egg," Spencer put in, and heard Rossi laugh heartily on the other end.

"They think he'll just age normally, but of course they're working on finding something to reverse it," Hotch added.

"Any idea how long that will take?"

"They're not even sure how long it took Dr Sakenfeld to make the damn thing in the first place," Hotch said.

"But of course he's done all the pioneering for the project, and they can piggy-back off his research, so it might take much less time," Spencer pointed out.

"I hope you're right, kid. Anyway, Aaron, we've got a new case. A series of child kidnappings in Colorado. So if you're going to be joining us, then we have to decide what to do about Reid."

"You don't have to do anything about me," Spencer said. He'd had plenty of opportunities in the last two days to lie around and think about how his new condition would affect his job, and he'd come to the conclusion that it would only be a hindrance if other people made it that way. "I can come, too. I'll lay low in the hotel and work over video link, like I did with Garcia when I got shot."

"No," said Hotch and Rossi at the same time. Rossi was quicker to continue. "You absolutely cannot stay in the hotel by yourself."

"Someone could stay with me, even though I wouldn't really need it."

"Look, Strauss and I have already discussed this a little bit on the phone," Hotch said. That was news to Spencer, and he realized Hotch must have spoken to the Section Chief while he was asleep, the way he'd seen JJ and Will do when they didn't want Henry interrupting, or even knowing what was going on. Spencer did not like being excluded as though he were a child, too.

"If you're worried about child labour laws, the true question would be, are those laws valid in my case?" Spencer interrupted. "I mean, people with mental disabilities are allowed, even encouraged to work at whatever tasks they're capable of, even though they might have the mind of a child in an adult's body. But with me, it's the other way around, I have the mind of an adult in a child's body, and the labour I would be doing would be mental, not physical."

"Actually, we didn't get around to child labour laws, Reid, but that's a good point. What we did decide was to wait until the Bureau has got the official test results, which should be soon. Once we have them, we'll be in a better position to make a decision about how we will be handling the situation. But until then, Reid, you are officially on sick leave."

"I'm not sick, Hotch, I'm just a little smaller," Spencer felt obliged to point out.

"And a little more emotional, if I correctly recall the results of at least one of those tests," Hotch said. Remembering which one he meant, Spencer cringed slightly.

"So, who do we know who can look after him for you?" Rossi asked. "Your sister-in-law, Jessica, looks after Jack, doesn't she? Do you think –"

"No," Hotch said. "I can't ask her to do that. With Jack, it's different, they're family. And she needs time to do her regular job, too. I know she works mostly at home developing software, but I know she wouldn't be able to concentrate on that and keep an eye on Spencer the whole time, too."

"I guess putting him with Will and Henry is out, too," Rossi said, and Hotch nodded. "Definitely out. Henry's in daycare or with a neighbour when Will's at work. And while I did consider the BAU's emergency childcare centre –"

"Hotch, please don't send me there." Spencer tried not to give in to the emotions that his four-year-old self was on the verge of experiencing. "I'm not a child, I just look like one, and it will be a disaster."

"Reid—"

But panic and desperation were starting to overwhelm him, and his speech became louder and faster and even took on a slightly whiny tone. "Just let me stay in the office with Garcia! I won't cause any trouble, I won't even work, I'll just sit quietly and read and nobody will even know I'm there!"

"Reid!" Hotch gave him the official look of reprimand, and Spencer stopped babbling.

"I won't be sending you to childcare, Reid, so relax. I've decided I'll be sitting this case out. We both will." Hotch turned his attention back to the phone. "Feel free to consult with me by phone if you need to, Rossi, but as Reid's health care proxy, I have a duty of care towards him."

"And it doesn't hurt that you can spend a lazy weekend with your son, too," Rossi replied.

Hotch smiled. "Guilty as charged, and showing no remorse whatsoever."

"If I borrow Reid, can I play hooky from work sometime, too?" Rossi asked, amusement audible in his voice.

Spencer was sure that Hotch smirked, just the tiniest bit.

* * *

Spencer opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around. The room was lit only by a small nightlight, plugged into a socket near the floor, but eventually he was able to pick out a larger lamp on a nightstand next to him. He felt around for the switch, and when the bulb came on, he realized he was in Jack's bedroom and Jack's bed. He must have fallen asleep in the car, and Hotch had carried him inside, just like when they'd arrived at the SHIELD facility. And, just like then, he'd also removed Spencer's jeans and let him sleep in his T-shirt and underwear.

Spencer got up and went towards the bedroom door. There was a dark, lumpy form on the floor at the end of the bed, and for one terrifying moment, he imagined it was an Unsub, lying in wait. He could even hear breathing. But then the lump shifted slightly, and Spencer realized it was actually Jack in a sleeping bag. Beyond him, in front of the closet and the chest of drawers, Spencer could see his messenger bag and his go-bag, with his jeans laid out neatly on top. Feeling faintly ridiculous, Spencer moved around Jack, careful not to step on him, and got dressed.

In the kitchen, the microwave clock said it was almost seven. The house was nicely quiet, and Spencer realized it was the first time he'd been completely alone since his de-aging. It seemed like the perfect time to make some coffee, or rather, coffee-flavoured milk, since he wanted a little bit of caffeine without suffering the effects of too much, and then he'd grab one of Hotch's books to read. But Hotch's coffee machine was too far back on the counter for him to reach from where he stood, and he had to move a chair from the dining room and climb up on it.

Spencer had just got the coffee going when he heard rapid footsteps approaching.

"Dad – oh." It was Jack, staring up at him in dismay, but then the disappointment faded from his face and he looked almost cheerful as he said, "You're Spencer, right? I'm Jack."

"Hi, Jack," Spencer said. They'd met before – Spencer had come over several times in the last few months – but of course Jack wouldn't know him in his current form. Hotch must have spoken to him the night before to prepare him for younger Spencer's presence.

"What are you doing?"

"Making coffee. Do you want some?"

"Coffee tastes yucky," Jack said. "And Dad said it's only for adults."

"Well, I have adult tastes," Spencer said. He got down from the chair and went to the fridge for a carton of milk. He had to use both hands to carry it.

"Dad always makes me oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast," Jack said, watching as Spencer deposited the milk safely on the counter, then went back to shut the fridge door.

"I can make orange juice, too," Spencer said, ignoring the oatmeal part. Spotting an egg carton on a lower shelf, he added, "And I can make scrambled eggs, fried eggs, and cheese omelets. Do you want eggs for breakfast?"

"I like scrambled eggs with ketchup," Jack said. Spencer had never eaten scrambled eggs with ketchup before, but it actually sounded like a good idea. He grabbed the egg carton with one hand, securing it against his stomach, then reached for the bottle of ketchup in the door.

"Now we need a bowl and a fork," Spencer said, settling the ketchup next to the milk, then lifting up the egg carton next.

Jack pointed out the correct cabinet for bowls, and got a fork from the drawer. Getting back up on the chair, Spencer cracked an egg against the side of the bowl, but he still wasn't used to the less-developed fine motor control of his smaller body, or rather, the almost complete lack of it. The egg smashed and slid down onto the counter. Grimacing, Spencer held the bowl just under the edge of the counter and used his hand to sweep the egg, shell and all, into it.

"Now you've got all that eggshell in there," Jack said.

"I'll get it out," Spencer said, picking at it. It wasn't as easy as he remembered, and there weren't many larger pieces of shell that he could use to get the smaller ones out, but eventually, he managed to remove all the pieces he could see. After wiping his hands on a towel, he tried again with the other egg, tapping it so gently that he had to try six times to get it to crack.

"Do you have a salt shaker?" Spencer asked, and picked out more pieces of shell while Jack fetched the salt from the table. The third egg went in almost perfectly, and Spencer shook the salt over the bowl three times, then mixed the eggs with a fork. Only a little bit slopped over the side.

"Do you know where your dad keeps the pans?"

"In here." Jack opened one of the lower cabinets and pulled out a huge drawer full of pots and pans and lids. Spencer selected a Teflon pan, then moved the chair from the coffee maker over to the stove and got up. He put the pan on the burner and turned it on, then realized he was missing something.

"Do you have a spatula?" he asked. "And can you get the butter out of the fridge?"

But Jack's helpfulness ended there. "Dad says I can't use the stove unless he's there, and you're smaller than I am, so you're not allowed to use it, either."

"I know how to cook," Spencer retorted, reaching over to the drawer where Jack had found the fork earlier. He almost fell off the chair, so he got down and tried again, then checked the drawer underneath and found the spatula. Jack turned around and raced out of the kitchen, so Spencer got the butter out of the fridge by himself. Using both hands on the handle of the spatula, he pushed the edge of it into the stick of butter and managed to heave off a chunk, then put it in the pan and watched it melt.

"Spencer, what are you doing?" That wasn't Jack, it was Hotch, and Spencer glanced around quickly in surprise.

"Making breakfast," he said. "Jack and I are going to have scrambled eggs with ketchup, but I can make some for you without."

He stretched out sideways, putting one hand on the counter to support himself while he reached for the bowl of eggs, but his hand landed in the gooey remains of the raw egg and slipped right over the edge. Spencer crashed to the floor, landing hard on his side. "Oww!"

Hotch was already there, crouching down. "Are you hurt?"

"Uh," he said, sitting up and breathing for a moment. He wasn't hurt, but his hand was slimy. Without thinking, he wiped it on his shirt. "No, I'm fine."

"All right, then it's time out for you, and I'll finish the eggs," Hotch said.

"What?" Spencer gaped up at him in utter confusion. "Time out? For what?"

"Jack is not allowed to use the stove or the coffee machine, or the mixer, or anything else like that unless I am supervising him. And since you are younger than he is, you are not allowed, either," Hotch explained, emphasizing the word "younger" just a little bit and giving Spencer a significant look. "And I'm putting you in time out so that you can think about what kind of example you're setting for my son and what kind of danger Jack might get into if he tries to do what you're doing now."

Spencer hadn't thought of that and felt suddenly drenched in deep shame. He'd only been thinking of proving that he could still do almost everything he'd been able to do as an adult, even though he was in a child's body. Hotch helped him up, then kept one hand on his shoulder and led him over to a bare section of wall just outside the kitchen

"You stand here, no turning around, and no talking," Hotch explained, pushing him gently forwards until his toes were just touching the wall. "If you try to get out early, I'll start the timer again, otherwise, it's one minute for each year of your age."

"Twenty nine minutes?" Spencer exclaimed.

"Four." Hotch corrected him. "I'm setting the timer now. Remember, no talking."

"You have to think about what you did wrong, and what you can do better next time," Jack put in helpfully.

"Thank you, Jack, but please don't talk to Spencer when he's in time out," Hotch said.

Spencer stared down at the floor, listening to Hotch get a cannister of orange juice out of the freezer and stop by the stove to stir the eggs quickly. He was glad that none of the team was here to see him with his nose to the wall; it was even worse than being carried around like a baby.

"Dad, are you going to be here for my birthday?" Jack asked.

"I'm sure going to try," Hotch replied. Well, Spencer thought, at least he wasn't lying by saying yes.

"Is Spencer going to be here?"

"I don't know, buddy. Come here, help me stir this orange juice."

Spencer wanted to ask Jack when his birthday was, the better to help him calculate if he was going to be there or not, but remembered that Hotch had told him not to talk. He'd only said that he'd start the timer again if Spencer tried to get out of his punishment, but he might add another minute or even two for talking. Better not to risk it.

Eventually, the timer went off. Hotch said, "All right, Spencer, you can apologize and then sit down at the table."

"I'm sorry, sir," Spencer said quietly. As he went into the dining room and sat down to the table, Jack asked, "Aren't you going to hug him, Dad?"

"Why would he hug me?" Spencer asked. Hotch looked as though he'd been about to ask the same question.

"Because that's part of the whole time out thing," Jack explained. For a single second, Hotch's face lit up in realization, and then he smiled fondly down at his son.

"I'll hug him if he wants," Hotch said, lifting the pitcher of orange juice out of the sink and bringing it to the table. "Do you want a hug, Spencer?"

"No," Spencer said, but he couldn't help remembering how nice it had felt to be cuddled in Hotch's arms after his nightmare.

"Don't you like hugs?" Jack asked.

Spencer sidestepped the question. "I like it when my mom hugs me."

"All right, boys, eat up." Hotch placed a plate of scrambled eggs dotted with ketchup in front of each of them, poured the orange juice, then went back to the stove to make more eggs for himself.

After taking two bites, Jack spit out the third one and exclaimed, "Yuck, Dad, this egg's got eggshells in it. Can I have oatmeal instead?"

Spencer had found eggshell in his mouth, too, but had quietly cringed and swallowed anyway.

"I can get you a new egg, and we can have oatmeal to-morrow, how's that?"

Jack considered the idea, and finally said, "Okay."

"Okay." Hotch cracked another egg into the pan. "Spencer? You want a new egg, too?"

Biting down on yet another piece of shell, Spencer glanced up, amazed that Hotch wasn't forcing him to eat his mistakes. "Um, yeah. Thanks."

After they'd all finished eating, Hotch said, "Put your things in the sink, boys, then go to Jack's room while I get a shower and get dressed. Jack, we have to stop at the store and see if we can get a car seat for Spencer. That means we have to leave early for soccer, so I need you to get your soccer uniform on now."

"Hey, Spencer, want to be on my soccer team?" Jack asked. "Dad, can Spencer be on my soccer team?"

"I don't want to," Spencer said. "And I need glasses, so I won't be able to see the ball very well anyway. I should just stay here and read."

"He won't be on the team, but he is coming with us," Hotch answered.

Spencer stared at him in dismay. "Do I have to?"

"You absolutely cannot stay here by yourself, Spencer, so, yes, you have to. But I will let you bring a book or two."

"Thanks," Spencer murmured sarcastically.

Hotch went on as though he hadn't heard that. "And on Monday, I'll see about getting you an appointment for an eye exam so we can get you new glasses."

"Oh," said Spencer. It took him a moment to recover from his surprise and switch his tone of voice. "Thanks, Hotch."


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everybody for reading and favouriting and following! Big hugs!

* * *

They got the car seat and drove to the soccer field. Spencer had picked out two of Hotch's old law books and Hotch had put them in a plastic bag. They were heavy enough that he needed both hands to carry the bag, and he was glad when he got to the field and he could lay it down. There were no bleachers, but some of the parents had brought their own folding chairs or coolers to sit on. Spencer found a place on the grass that wouldn't be too close to any flying balls and had just taken out the first book when Hotch came over.

"Spencer, can you come sit a little bit closer, where I can keep an eye on you?" he asked.

"I'm not going to run away," Spencer told him. "I'm just going to sit here and read."

Hotch squatted down next to him and said quietly, "You're far enough away that you could be a prime target for a pedophile, and if you're reading, you won't be paying attention to someone coming up behind you."

Remembering how small and helpless he'd felt in Dr Sakenfeld's grip, unable to escape, Spencer knew he was right. Now he had to get used to the idea that he was no longer an FBI agent with a profile and a gun, but instead infinitely more vulnerable. Spencer stuck his finger in the book to mark his place and got to his feet, then followed Hotch to the front line of parents, siblings, and assistant coaches. Hotch found him an empty spot next to a woman in a chair, asked her politely to keep an eye on his nephew, then went off to the team to start warm-ups.

"Move over," somebody said to Spencer, and he glanced up in surprise. An older boy was glaring down at him. "I want to sit next to my mom."

"There's plenty of room on the other side, Jacob," the mother said.

"But I want to sit on this side!"

Spencer shifted over, pulling his bag in front of him, and continued reading. After a few minutes, several blades of grass fell onto the page he was reading. He brushed them away, but after he'd turned the page and more fell, he glanced up in annoyance to see Jacob ripping out another handful, ready to toss.

Sighing, Spencer got up and went around behind the woman to sit on her other side. She was talking on her phone and not paying any attention to Jacob, who immediately whined, "Mom, I'm bored."

"I know, Jacob," she said in a tone of voice that indicated she'd heard it many times before. "I've got a book for you in my purse if you want to practice your reading."

"I don't want to read. I want my Gameboy," Jacob complained.

"You know exactly why I took it away. And if you're not going to read, then at least be quiet. I'm talking to Grandma."

Jacob didn't reply, but a moment later, the woman interrupted her conversation to say, "Jacob, don't do that. Watch Hunter instead!"

"Hunter's not doing anything, he's just standing there."

After a few moments, however, Spencer became aware of someone breathing down his neck, and looked up. Jacob was looming over him. "You're not reading that, so why are you pretending?"

"I am reading it," Spencer retorted.

"No, you're not. I'll bet you don't even know how to read."

"Jacob, just be quiet and let the boy read," his mother said.

"Mom, he's not reading, he's just pretending! His book doesn't even have any pictures!" Jacob exclaimed, coming around to stand in front of Spencer.

Still talking on her phone, the mother fumbled in her purse and pulled out a thin paperback, then gently nudged Jacob with it until he finally took it. Hoping that Jacob would get the hint, Spencer bent his head to start reading again, but Jacob jabbed the sharp corner of his book into Spencer's arm.

"Can you read this?" he demanded.

Spencer looked down at the book, then reached out to bring it closer so he could see the title more clearly. "Lego Pirates, Brickbeard's Treasure, by Hannah Dolan."

He opened the book, found the first page, and started to read that, too, only to be interrupted by Jacob's accusing tone. "You're making that up."

"You only think that because you can't read well enough to see if it's true," Spencer said. "You're trying to avoid reading because it's difficult and frustrating for you. In fact, you probably have some kind of learning disability. You should—"

Jacob threw himself onto Spencer, knocking him backwards into the grass and hitting him in the face twice, hard enough to make him cry. Then there was a commotion of adults around them, and somebody pulled Jacob away. Sobbing, Spencer rolled onto his side, covering his head with his arms and curling up defensively in case he was attacked again.

"Spencer? Can I see?" Hotch was there, lifting Spencer into his arms and getting a close-up look at his face. "You're not bleeding, you might get some bruises. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Huh unh," Spencer grunted, snuggling into Hotch's embrace.

Hotch addressed the surrounding adults. "What happened?"

There was a short silence, then one man spoke up. "It looked to me like this older boy just attacked him."

"Your nephew must have said something to set Jacob off." That was Jacob's mother, having finally ended her phone call.

"He was saying bad words!" Jacob exclaimed.

"I was not!" Spencer shouted back, his words slightly ragged because he was still crying.

"Can I ask you to take Jacob and go sit down there?" Hotch asked, no doubt indicating the far end of the field. "And Spencer can sit over here for the rest of the game."

"I think maybe I should take Jacob and Hunter home," the woman replied, both angry and irritated.

While she collected both boys and all but dragged them away, Hunter protesting loudly that the game wasn't over yet, a man approached Hotch with a bundle of towel in his hand.

"Here's some ice."

"Thanks." Hotch took it and applied it to Spencer's face. "Can you hold that there?"

Spencer took makeshift ice pack, shifting it to rest against Hotch's shoulder and laying his cheek on it.

"Is Spencer hurt bad?" That was Jack.

"He'll be okay in a minute. All right, everybody, back to the game," Hotch said, addressing the children who'd come to crowd around the incident. Then, quietly, he asked Spencer, "Do you want me to put you down now?"

"Huh unh," Spencer replied, holding on even tighter. And although he stopped crying soon enough, it was so comforting to be cuddled and held safe from bullies that he waited until the ice started to melt through the towel. "Okay, I can get down now, Hotch."

Hotch set him on the ground, and ruffled his hair a little, then went off to continue coaching the game. Spencer watched him for a minute before reaching for his book again.

* * *

At home after lunch, Jack practised reading aloud in the living room, and Spencer sat at the kitchen table, trying to write a letter to his mother. It was harder to hold the pen and form the letters with his little fingers, and he soon realized he'd have to think up something to explain his very different handwriting. He thought for a long moment, then wrote something vague but basically truthful about his fine motor control having been affected by a chemical experiment that the Unsub had been performing when they'd arrived. He was careful to emphasize that he'd been checked over and should be back to normal soon.

Spencer stopped writing and stared into space for a long moment. How soon was soon? Jack had already mentioned his own birthday, which reminded Spencer that his was on the 28th, less than a month away. He usually phoned his mom on that date, not that she necessarily remembered to congratulate him, but it was still nice to talk. He couldn't call her if he were still only four years old, though. She wouldn't recognize his voice, would wonder why a small child was trying to convince her that he was her thirty-year-old son, and would start imagining all kinds of things, no doubt starting and ending with a government conspiracy theory. And after that, it would be three weeks until Thanksgiving, when he had hoped to fly out to Las Vegas to spend the holiday with her. Would he be able to do that in his current condition? Could he manage to convince her that it was really him?

"Spencer, why are you crying? Don't you feel well?"

Spencer blinked, and another tear escaped as he looked at Jack, who was suddenly standing next to him.

Embarrased, Spencer quickly wiped his cheeks. It seemed like all he did lately was cry, for one reason or another. He'd probably cried more in the last four days than he had since he had been four the first time around, Emily's "death" excluded.

Jack patted his arm consolingly, and Spencer finally said, "I just miss my mom."

"Is she dead?" Jack asked.

"Jack, remember I told you that Spencer's mom was very sick and couldn't take care of him?" Hotch said gently.

"Oh, yeah," Jack said.

"She's in a special hospital far away," Spencer said.

"Can you visit her?" Jack went on.

"No, it's too far away, and, uh, I'm not allowed." That was the easiest way to explain it. "But I'm writing her a letter that she can read."

"My mom's dead, but sometimes Dad lights a candle and I talk to it and Mom can hear me in heaven," Jack said.

"That's a good idea," Spencer said.

Reminded of fathers, Jack went on, "Where's your dad?"

"He's – gone." Spencer decided it was time to change the subject. "So, um, you're finished reading now?"

"Yes, and now we're going to the store. Dad said I could pick out a special treat for dessert for to-morrow!"

"Okay," Spencer said.

"And you can pick out the special treat for dessert for to-day!" Jack went on.

"Um—"

"Let's get you a jacket, Spencer, I think it's started raining," Hotch said.

Spencer realized he wasn't being given a choice about having to go with them, and put down his pen with a sigh.

* * *

That night, Spencer and Jack had a little fight over who got to sleep in the sleeping bag, and who had to take the bed. Hotch finally settled it with a coin toss, and when Jack saw that he'd correctly picked heads, he jumped triumphantly from the bed to the rolled up sleeping bag and landed right in the centre of it, not caring that he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor directly afterwards. He was so excited about the prospect that he also skipped into the bathroom, chanting, "I get the sleeping bag, I get the sleeping bag."

Spencer gave Hotch a slightly embarrassed smile. "I was just trying to be nice by offering to swap with him. I didn't think it would be a big deal."

"It's exciting because it's different," Hotch said. "Come on, you can brush your teeth, too."

Jack also got to stay up half an hour later because he was a year older, and after Spencer got into bed, Hotch led his son into the living room to read him the bedtime stories that Spencer had politely declined.

Spencer lay there in the dim glow of the nightlight, resuming his thoughts from earlier in the afternoon about his mother. No, she wasn't able to take care of him now; in fact, she hadn't ever really been able to take care of him. Remembering Jack's question, Spencer also thought about his father, which he tried not to do too often. After a moment or two of the old pain, he turned his thoughts to Hotch and the rest of the team, which reminded him of the conversation Hotch had had with Rossi, about what to do about Reid …

And he awoke, sobbing, and somebody was sitting on the bed next to him.

"Spencer?" It was Hotch. "Did you have another nightmare?"

"Strau – Strauss," he stuttered, reaching out to wrap himself around Hotch. Hotch pulled him into a hug, and carried him out of Jack's bedroom and into his own, shutting the door.

"You had a nightmare about Strauss?" he prompted.

"Strauss sent me – sent me to my dad!" Spencer cried. "And he – and he walked out on me again! I was in his office – Mom wasn't there – nobody was there – and he just left – just left me all alone!"

"I've got you, Spencer," Hotch said, rubbing his back. "You're not alone. It was a scary dream, but it was just a dream. It's okay now."

"He just left me!" Spencer repeated. "All alone in his – in his office with his dead cat –"

"His dead cat?" Hotch asked.

"He had – he had a sick cat – when we were there – remember? And he – he let it die – in his office – and he left me – he left me there to die, too!"

"Spencer, that didn't happen. It was a dream," Hotch said.

"I don't want to go to my dad!" Spencer wailed. "I don't want to go!"

"It's okay, Spencer, it's all right," Hotch soothed.

"He said – he said he left because he didn't know how to – how to take care of me," Spencer tried to explain. He was crying even harder now and it was harder to speak. "And I was – I was eleven then. So that means he won't – he won't know how to take care of me now that I'm – now that I'm like this!"

"Oh, Spencer," Hotch said, hugging him extra tight.

"I'm scared," Spencer admitted. "I'm so scared, Hotch!"

"I know," Hotch said, rubbing his back again. "I know. But I've got you. You're safe now. You're safe."

* * *

Spencer closed the book and looked around Hotch's home office. "Hotch?"

"Yeah?" Hotch looked up from his desk.

"Can we go to the library?" It was Wednesday afternoon and Spencer had now read every book that Hotch had in his apartment, including Jack's, as short as they were.

"I'll bet Jack would love to pick out a new book, too, so why don't we wait until after we've picked him up?" Hotch suggested.

"Okay." But Spencer sighed again. "I wish Strauss would call to talk about the results of the tests from SHIELD. I can't understand what's taking so long!"

"Neither can I," Hotch admitted.

"I wish Rossi would call and consult us about the case. Actually, I wish we were out there with them!"

Hotch gave him a long, probing look, then said, "I think somebody needs to get the wiggles out."

"What? I don't have any wiggles!"

"You've been jiggling your leg since you opened that book, but aside from that, you've barely moved all day. Now you're starting to sound irritable. Yesterday and Monday, we had enough errands to run to keep us busy, but now I think we should go outside."

Spencer pouted. "Are you going to make me walk around the building again?"

"No, there's a playground close to Jack's school that we can go to."

"Playground? Hotch, come on!"

"No, you come on, Spencer. Get your shoes and your jacket."

They went to the playground. Spencer stood at the gate in the fence, looking unhappily at the equipment. Thankfully, there was only one other child playing there, a girl, with her a father on a nearby bench, so it didn't look like he'd be bullied, but still.

"Spencer, go play." When Spencer hesitated, Hotch became more specific. "Go slide down the slide."

Spencer walked reluctantly over to the big slide, climbed the ladder, and slid down. It was actually more fun than he remembered, so he went up a second time, and then a third. When he went around to the ladder again, the girl was just about to climb up, but she stopped to wave him back. "Go away. I'm here now, and I can't slide down if you're too close."

So much for not being bullied. Spencer decided not to press the issue, but instead walked over to where Hotch had made himself comfortable on the bench. "Okay, Hotch, I've played. Can we –?"

The man on the bench glanced suddenly up from his phone. "Hotch? Agent Hotchner? Hi, I'm Agent Henriksen! Lars Henriksen, in the Cyber Crime Unit. Your son's in the same school as my older daughter, we've seen each other there a time or two."

"Oh, yeah. Hi." Hotch smiled and reached over to shake hands.

"Oh, my G-d, is it true what happened to Dr Reid?"

"Is what true?" Hotch asked coldly, his smile fading. Feeling his heart sink, Spencer backed automatically away to Hotch's other side.

"That he's been turned into a kid? Is that him?" Agent Henriksen craned his neck for a better look.

"Where did you hear about that?"

"It's all over the BAU. Everybody's talking about it." Now the man addressed Spencer directly. "Are you really only three years old?"

Spencer stared at him, not sure how to respond. Whether he tried to confirm or deny the rumours, it would probably have the same effect of causing them to increase exponentially. He also wondered where the leak came from. Surely it couldn't be Garcia? He hoped it wasn't. Maybe somebody from SHIELD? They were the only other people who knew – and word had spread around the research facility pretty quickly.

"If you have to participate in rumours, then you can at least spread the truth," Hotch said. "Dr Reid is four going on five, yes, he's retained all his memories, and no, we don't think he's going to suddenly turn back into an adult."

"Is it true it was aliens?" Agent Henriksen pressed, looking as excited, Spencer thought, as a fanboy at a Doctor Who convention.

"No, that is definitely not true," Hotch said.

Agent Henriksen slumped in disappointment.

"And if I read one word about this in the National Enquirer, I will sue you," Hotch went on in a quietly menacing tone, which changed the agent's expression to outraged astonishment.

"Hey, I wasn't going to talk to the press!" Agent Henriksen was interrupted by a cry of "Da-ad!" from his daughter, and he looked away to where she was standing at the top of the climbing tower.

"Um, Dr Reid, have you had chickenpox?" he suddenly asked.

"Yeah, when I was about seven," Spencer replied without thinking. "Why?"

"Dad!"

"But you're four going on five now."

"Yes—" and then Spencer realized why the man was asking. "Your daughter has chickenpox, doesn't she?"

"DAD!"

"Yup. And, well, I don't know if you want to stay away from her, or go get infected and get them over with … um … for this lifetime." Agent Henriksen went over to see why his daughter was shrieking at him, and Spencer and Hotch looked at each other in horror.

"I think it's time to pick up Jack," Hotch said, and even though they ended up sitting in the car outside Jack's school for a while, Spencer didn't mind at all. It gave him time to take out his phone and make a call.

"Divine Goddess reigning over FBI agents young, old, and Hotch-aged, you have a clear line of communication, so state your petition."

"Hi, Garcia, it's Reid."

"Reid? Dr Spencer Reid, the BAU's own Dougie Houser? Four-year-old Robin to Hotch's Batman? Baby Bucky to Captain America? Little Padawan Anakin to Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Ouch, Garcia, not Anakin!" Spencer protested, trying to sound insulted, and heard her laugh.

"Oh, Spencer, you sound just as adorable as you look in those pictures! What's going on, sweetie pie?"

"Garcia, please promise me you didn't talk to anybody outside our team about what happened to me?"

"No, Spencer, I wouldn't! I didn't!"

"Not even to Kevin?"

"So I take it you've somehow heard the rumours, then," Garcia said. "Hey, Spencer, it wasn't aliens, was it?"

"Not unless Ryan Sakenfeld is an alien. Garcia, please, I have to know, did you talk to Kevin about this or not?"

"No, I didn't tell Kevin. However that information got out, Spencer, it was not because of me."

"I'm glad to hear that," Spencer said. "I didn't want to feel betrayed by anybody else on the team."

"Nope," she said. "Definitely not me. My lips were sealed with super glue and duct tape – not one word could escape, not even by climbing up and out through my nose!"

Spencer raised his eyebrows at the mental image. "Thank you."

The doors to the school opened and waves of children began to flow out.

"So when are you going to come visit?" Garcia asked. "I want to see you in person!"

"I don't know, but it was good talking to you. I have to go now. We're picking up Jack and then we get to go to the library."

"Okay, then, bye, Baby Bucky! Oooh, wait, that reminds me, did you see Captain America when you were at SHIELD?"

"Goodbye, Garcia."

Spencer cut the connection and groaned at the nickname, not only because of the way it implied sidekick status, but also because it included the word "baby." He wasn't stuck in an infant body, for pete's sake! He couldn't even be classified as a toddler anymore, as he'd be turning five in just a few weeks. Or thirty. Or, actually, both thirty and five.

Hotch got out to help Jack into the car, and just as he settled back into the driver's seat, listening to his son talk animatedly about his day, his phone buzzed and he checked it discreetly.

"Hang on a minute, Jack, this is important," Hotch said. "Hotchner."

There was a pause, and then he said, "Not this afternoon, I've just picked up Jack from school." Pause. "To-morrow morning? Say, nine?" Pause. "Perfect. We'll be there." Pause. "Yes, Dr Reid is coming, too. We'll see you to-morrow."

"Strauss?" Spencer asked excitedly.

"Yes." Hotch put his phone away as though nothing had happened, then turned back to his son. "Okay, Jack, tell me more about what happened at recess."

* * *

For fans of Matthew Gray Gubler, I've also written a Rumple Buttercup fanfiction. I haven't yet been able to post it here on FFN, but it is available at An Archive of Our Own. Just search for _The Pumpkin Signa_l or even Rumple Buttercup. You can also leave kudos without having to register or sign in or anything, if you think it's worth kudos. :-)


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to everybody who has favourited and followed, and who is reading, and especially everybody who's reviewed!

* * *

At the BAU the next morning, Strauss met them at the door to her office, and after giving Hotch a perfunctory greeting, she looked down at Spencer and said, "Dr Reid … I still find it hard to believe this has actually happened."

"Do you want more evidence to prove it?" Spencer asked. "Because I think Dr Kimura at the CDC has some of my tissue samples from when I inhaled anthrax during the Chad Brown case, so you can take a DNA test to compare them. Do you have a swab handy? I can do it myself, or would you rather?"

He opened his mouth obligingly, but when Strauss showed no signs of wanting to scrape the inside of his cheek, he went on. "I would offer to show you the scars from when I got shot in the leg while trying to protect Dr Tom Barton, but they're not there anymore. Actually, I've been wondering if they'll come back. If SHIELD re-ages the cells of this body, and the scar tissue isn't present, then I probably won't have the scars when I'm an adult again, but if they find a way to truly reverse the procedure, like re-winding a video cassette, then the scars –"

"All right, thank you, Dr Reid. Come in and sit down, both of you."

She shut the door behind them, then went around to sit behind her desk. "You would not believe the rumours that have been going around here these last few days."

"It wasn't aliens," Spencer told her.

Her lips twitched in the beginnings of a grimace. "That isn't even the worst of the theories.

But since we're here to discuss facts and not rumours, I spent all day yesterday reviewing the test results that SHIELD sent over, trying to decide what we're going to do with you."

"I thought we were going to decide that together," Hotch said.

Strauss frowned slightly. "Well, Aaron, I'm sure you'll agree with me that the best solution would be for us to place Dr Reid back in the custody of his father –"

Spencer felt suddenly sick with fear. His nightmare was coming true! Hotch was going to agree, he just knew it. It made sense; Hotch couldn't be expected to take a month-long leave of absence just to care for a member of his team. Rossi had called it; Hotch had happily used Spencer to get a few extra days with his son, but no doubt he was itching to get back to work, even more than Spencer himself was. Now he was going to abandon Spencer to the "tender loving care" of his father, despite having comforted Spencer through the nightmare of this exact scenario, despite knowing how Spencer felt about the man who'd walked out on him and his mother. It was an even worse betrayal than neglecting to mention that Emily had been alive the whole time.

"No," said Hotch, and Spencer snapped his attention back to Strauss's office. Had he heard correctly?

Strauss's frown became more severe. "Now I understand that Mr Reid walked out on his wife because of her health problems, but since she's no longer in the picture, so to speak -"

"No, his father walked out on them because he did not know how to deal with his son," Hotch said, emphasizing the last two words, and Spencer stared up at him in amazement. Was he really …?

Hotch went on. "His father admitted candidly that he did not know how to take care of Spencer. No mention of his wife, just his son, and that was when Sp—Dr Reid – was eleven, both physically and mentally. Dr Reid now has the mind of a twenty nine year old genius in the body of a four-year-old child, and I think you'll agree with me, Chief Strauss, that putting Dr Reid back into the custody of his father would be child endangerment at the very least."

He really was! Hotch was really taking Spencer's side! Spencer felt most of the terror around his heart dissolve into astonished relief and gratitude. But there was still Strauss to worry about, and she was staring at Hotch as though he were the one who should be in a mental institution.

"Do you have a better idea, Agent Hotchner?" she asked coldly.

"I'm willing to care for him as though he were my own son. In fact, if the process cannot be reversed, I'm willing to adopt him," Hotch stated.

Spencer gaped. Strauss gaped. There was a long moment of stunned silence, and then Strauss regained her voice first. "So you'd treat him the same way you treat your son? You'll send him to school and have your sister-in-law look after him whenever you're away on a case or otherwise can't be there?"

"Not exactly," Hotch said. "You know that Dr Reid still retains his memories and all the experience he's gained working here at the BAU. With a few accomodations, he could still continue to work with the team."

Strauss narrowed her eyes. "What kind of accomodations?"

The ensuing discussion took three hours, but in the end, they'd not only come to an agreement, but had also hammered out every possible detail they could think of, including a new official identity for Spencer. Finally, Strauss put an end to the meeting by claiming that she had other appointments, and since Hotch now had to talk to Garcia about some of the accomodations needing to be put into place, they would adjourn and talk again later as necessary.

"Thank you for your willingness to compromise," Hotch told her.

"That's just what I was about to say to you," she said, and smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day. Then she looked down at Spencer. "Good luck, Dr Reid. I hope they can find a way to reverse the process soon."

"Thank you," he said.

Out in the corridor, Spencer asked, "Hotch, can we stop by your office before we visit Garcia?"

"Are you trying to get your hands on more of my law books? At this rate, you'll be able to take the bar exam before Halloween."

"Actually, I've already read all the law books in your office, and I don't want to take the bar exam. I just want to talk privately for a moment."

"All right, then." Hotch led the way, and Spencer tried not to notice how all the other agents were staring at them as they passed. Once they were safely inside Hotch's office and the door was closed, he immediately asked, "Did you mean that, Hotch? That you'd adopt me?"

Hotch sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, inviting Spencer to sit as well. "Yes, Spencer, I would be willing to adopt you, but not against your wishes. I'd step back in favour of anybody else you'd prefer."

"I was scared that you were going to agree with Chief Strauss about sending me to my father," Spencer admitted.

"I would never have thought seriously about that alternative," Hotch said, "even if you hadn't told me about your nightmare."

"Hotch, I, uh, I expected you to abandon me," Spencer said slowly. "And … I was even more scared because I realized I'd started trusting you again, a little bit. Thank you for not betraying me."

"Thank you for trusting me again, Spencer," Hotch said simply. "Even a little bit."

"A lot more now," Spencer said. There was a slightly awkward silence, but eventually, Hotch asked, "While we're here, did you want to officially change your healthcare proxy to Morgan?"

In the midst of everything else, Spencer had forgotten his demand, but now he stopped to consider. Hotch had shown him trust, now it was his chance to return it. "No, I think I'll leave it the way it is for now."

Hotch gave him one of his rare smiles.

On the way to Garcia's office, Spencer felt like happiness was flowing from his heart throughout his body, making him want to skip, but although he thought he remembered how, his legs didn't quite do what they were supposed to. He ended up jumping in place, then taking an awkward step, hopping from one foot to the next, then doing a kind of march step before managing to jump with both legs again. Eventually, Hotch realized that he was no longer at his side, and turned around. "Spencer, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Spencer replied in sudden embarrassment. Giving up the idea of skipping, he ran ahead of Hotch and opened the door to Garcia's lair. "Hey, Garcia, guess what, I get to go back to work!"

"Jack …? Spencer! Oh, my G-d, it's Spencer!" Penelope Garcia leaped out of her chair, arms outstretched. "Come here, my half-pint hero! Awww, you're so adorable!"

Spencer let her pick him up and squeeze him, but thankfully, she put him down again eventually and got out her phone instead. As she took a few pictures, she asked, "So, you fell into this – this de-aging machine? What did it feel like? Did it hurt?"

"Yes, but mostly it was like being … compressed," Spencer remembered.

"Like in the trash compacter in Star Wars?"

"More like in a black hole." To illustrate, Spencer squeezed his hands together so tightly that his joints turned white.

Garcia shuddered at the thought. "Guess I won't be hoping for a chance to jump in, then."

"You don't want to be twenty five years younger, believe me," Spencer told her.

"No, I wouldn't want to be a kid again, but if I could go back to being twenty five …" Garcia let her voice drift off dreamily until Hotch brought her back to the here and now.

"We actually came to ask a favour, Garcia," he said.

"Unicorns cost extra," she immediately said. "Not that you would want a unicorn … sir."

Spencer took over the request. "Can you check and see if there are any BAU agents who are currently on medical leave, but are close to being cleared to come back?"

"Checking now." Garcia turned to her computer. "There are a few on medical leave, but it doesn't say here how close they are to coming back."

Remembering the chickenpox scare, Spencer asked, "Do any of them have any contagious diseases?"

"I'd have to get into more details to tell ..." But without waiting for permission, Garcia did exactly that. "Yeah, a couple of cases of stomach flu. Ugh. One bronchitis. Otherwise, we have a gunshot wound, injuries from a car crash, and a slipped disc."

"No flu cases, but everybody else, can you send their details to Hotch and me?"

"Faster than it takes to say 'Baby Bucky'!"

"Garcia," Spencer protested, but she just grinned unrepentantly.

"Has this got something to do with the case?"

"No, actually, we're looking for a guardian for Spencer," Hotch said.

"A slightly downgraded bodyguard or a slightly upgraded baby-sitter," Spencer clarified, even though simply saying the word "baby-sitter" made him cringe.

Garcia looked indignant. "I can baby-sit you!"

"Not and still keep doing your job at the same time," Hotch said. "Strauss has agreed that Spencer may work eight hours a day and accompany us on cases, but with some caveats, and one of those is that somebody stay with him the entire time. So now we're looking for somebody who is not actively working, but who is well enough to keep an eye out."

"And then I can go back to work!" Spencer exclaimed, bouncing slightly in excitement.

Garcia smiled down at him. "That's actually a good idea."

"Thank you," Spencer replied, trying not to bounce again. He'd even thought of the part of asking for somebody who was as eager to get back to work, in any capacity, as he was.

Garcia's smiled faded suddenly. "I hope we catch a break on this case soon, or you might be flying to Colorado with your special somebody sooner than you think."

Before either of them could answer, however, her phone rang, and she turned away to answer. "Office of the Supreme Technical Sorceress, what can I conjure for you this time?"

"Come on, Spencer, let's get lunch," Hotch said quietly, and when they were out in the hall, he added, "Then we should just have time to get you your new identity before your appointment at the eye doctor."

"Ophthalmologist," Spencer corrected him. "Hotch, did you know that the word ophthalmology comes from the Greek words ophthalmos, for eye, and logis, for study? So it basically means the study of eyes?"

"Yes, Spencer, I knew that," Hotch said, looking indulgently down at him.

"Oh."

* * *

7 October 2011

The next day was Jack's birthday, and his party was planned for the afternoon, but Hotch had already put some gifts in a pile on the breakfast table. Jack tore open the paper of the top present first.

"Sword-Swinging Cats! Thanks, Dad!"

Spencer could already see it was a book, and was thick enough to have a decent story in it as well, even if it did feature anthropomorphic felines.

"It's got stickers you can put on the pages, and some collectible cards, too," Hotch pointed out.

"Cards? Cool!" Jack reached eagerly for the next package. "A Cheerwell Stumptail shirt! Cheerwell's my favourite!"

"I know, you've only told me five hundred times," Hotch replied.

"Can I wear it to-day?"

"You can put it on right after breakfast, but eat first." Then Hotch indicated the last, and biggest present. "This one's from Spencer."

Jack ripped off the paper and read the box. "Ticket … to … Ride. What is it?"

"It's a board game about train tracks and being the first to connect all your cities," Spencer explained.

"Does it have any Cats in it? Or swords?"

"Well, no," Spencer had to admit, and felt bad when he saw the disappointment on Jack's face. "But you can pretend that the Cats are riding in the trains."

"There aren't any trains in the show," Jack said.

Spencer glanced at Hotch, who gave him a look that clearly said, _You should have gone for the Sword-Swinging Cats Board Game instead._ But the Cats game had been a glorified version of Snakes and Ladders, and Spencer had feared that Jack might force him into endless boring rounds of play.

After a moment of consideration, Spencer looked back at Jack, turned the box over, and pointed to the lower left hand corner of the back cover. "It says it's for kids aged eight and up, but I thought you'd be able to play it, because you're so smart, even though you're six and not eight yet. Maybe your dad should put it away until you're older, though."

"I can play it," Jack said instantly, picking at the plastic shrink wrap. "Can we try it right now, Dad?"

Hotch deftly took the game out of his son's hands. "Sorry, Jack, maybe later to-night. First we have to eat breakfast and get you to school, and then Spencer and I have an appointment."

"What kind of appointment? Is it the eye doctor again?" Jack asked around a spoonful of oatmeal.

"Ophthalmologist," Spencer said through his own oatmeal, because nobody was ever too young to learn the correct words.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, either of you, and no, it's not the eye doctor. We went there yesterday. That reminds me, though, I made an appointment for you, too, Jack. Next Tuesday after school."

"Will I be getting glasses too?"

"I don't think so, but children should have their eyes checked once a year, just in case."

"If I get glasses, I want the square kind that Tobias Twitchpaw has," Jack announced.

Hearing the name Tobias sent a jolt of fear and dread through Spencer that he hadn't felt for years, and he choked on his orange juice. Spluttering and coughing, he tried to set the glass down, but it landed on the edge of the table instead and the whole thing fell in his lap.

"Are you all right?" Hotch asked. Spencer coughed a few more times, then nodded his head and looked down at the mess.

Because of the impending appointment, he'd chosen his nicest clothes, one of the two sets that JJ had bought, including the button-down sweater that he thought made him look closest to his older self. Now everything was soaked and sticky. "Oh, no, now I have to go change!"

"Too bad you don't have a Cheerwell Stumptail shirt to wear," Jack said as Spencer got up. "Maybe you can get one for your birthday."

"I'd rather wear a hair shirt," Spencer muttered to himself as he reached the bedroom. The other set of clothes that JJ had purchased were in the laundry, and the only things available were some of Jack's hand-me-downs that Hotch had sorted out. The best he could find was a plain T-shirt, a sweatshirt with a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur on it and a pair of jeans with a patched knee. Sadly, he changed clothes, resigned to not looking his best on a day when it mattered, and resolved to ask Hotch to take him shopping as soon as possible.

From Jack's school, they drove right to their appointment, which was to interview Agent Alleluia Johnson, whom Spencer had placed at the top of his short list for a possible 'guardian.' She had obviously been waiting for them, because she buzzed them into her apartment building almost before Hotch had finished pushing the button, and when they got to her floor, she was standing in the open doorway.

"Agent Hotchner," she said as they approached. "Come in, sit down."

Agent Johnson was an athletic-looking black woman of medium height, closer to Hotch in age than to Spencer. She guided them to the sofa in her living room. "Can I get you anything? I've got tea, or I can cut an apple for your … son?"

"Thank you, but we've just had breakfast," Hotch said.

Agent Johnson folded herself to sit cross-legged in the easy chair. "Okay, then, what can I do for you, Agent Hotchner?"

"First off, let me introduce Dr Spencer Reid," Hotch said, and Spencer gave her his usual smile and wave.

"Uh huh," she said warily. "You know, the last I checked, April Fools' Day was six months ago."

"A hundred and ninety days, if you want to be exact," Spencer said. "And one hundred and seventy six days to next year's April Fools' Day."

"That's pretty good math, Sprout," Agent Johnson said.

"This isn't an April Fools joke, or any kind of joke," Hotch went on before Spencer could mention his PhD in mathematics. "Just over a week ago, my team was investigating the laboratory of a rogue SHIELD agent who somehow managed to invent a de-aging machine. Dr Reid fell into it and now has the body of a four-year-old while still retaining the intelligence and the memories of his twenty-nine-year-old self."

"Uh huh," Agent Johnson said again, obviously waiting for the punchline.

"I take it you haven't heard the rumours in the BAU, then?"

Agent Johnson snorted slightly and shook her head. "Even if I did listen to rumours, which I don't, I've been away so long, I hardly have contact with anybody on my team anymore. They're all busy, and I'm stuck here – well, I've got my physical therapy appointments, and I'm trying to keep the rest of myself fit, too. But, really, what's this all about, Agent Hotchner?"

"It really is about Dr Reid. But if you don't believe that this is him, you can call Chief Strauss, or any other Section Chief you like, and ask. We'll wait."

Agent Johnson looked at him for a long moment, then reached her left hand over to a nearby table and picked up her phone. Giving them alternately long glances, she dialled and waited. "Hi, McMullen, it's Johnson." Pause. "No, the other Johnson. Ally, not Sarah." Pause. "Sir, ninety-five percent of me is more than ready to get back to work, and that ninety-five percent can definitely compensate for the five percent that isn't quite there yet. But that's not why I'm calling. Listen, I've just heard the weirdest thing." Pause. "Well, I've got Agent Hotchner here with a kid he claims is Dr Spencer Reid." Long pause. "No way." Pause. "Okaaayyy, I guess SHIELD really does stand for Spooky Happenings in Every Last Doghouse." Pause. "You never heard that? What school did you go to, sir, the University of Outer Mongolia?" Pause. "Uh huh. I guess I have to believe it now." Pause. "Maybe I will. Okay, thanks, sir – I guess. See you soon."

She ended the call and looked at them. "Section Chief McMullen confirms your story, Agent Hotchner, but he said I could ask Dr Reid to quote me some statistics or some obscure fact if I'm still in doubt."

Hotch gave Spencer a quick smile. "Your reputation precedes you."

"There is no University of Outer Mongolia, although there is a National University of Mongolia, located in Ulaanbaatar," Spencer said. "Outer Mongolia was a territory of the Manchu Qing dynasty until 1911. There is also an Inner Mongolia, located between Outer Mongolia in the north and China in the south. When people say Outer Mongolia, they usually mean an undeveloped, even backwards place far away from modern civilization and technology. But although the horse culture is still integral to the country, and thirty percent of the population is at least semi-nomadic, the state of Mongolia cannot be completely generalized as uncivilized because there are actually quite a few universities there, although most of them are centreed around the capitol city."

Obviously stunned, Agent Johnson said, "Uh huh."

"So, about Dr Reid," Hotch said, and Agent Johnson came abruptly back to life, turning her attention to him as he continued. "We can still use his expertise on our cases, but as you can see, he would need someone to look after him."

"You want me to be his baby-sitter?" Agent Johnson asked. "His nanny?"

"I'd rather not think of you as a baby-sitter, because that would imply that I am a baby," Spencer said.

"I'd rather not think of myself as Mary Poppins, either," Agent Johnson retorted.

"We could say guardian or even bodyguard," Hotch suggested. "I'm sure you can see why putting him in daycare would not be a viable option. And since he has no family members, and we can hardly bring him with us to any police station or crime scene, we're looking for somebody to stay with him in hotels while he consults with us over video link."

"You do know I'm on medical leave because I got shot in the hand?" Agent Johnson said, holding it up in demonstration. "I've had two reconstructive surgeries and I've still got lingering nerve damage. I can't hold a gun, or a knife, or even a fork. I couldn't bodyguard a tortoise. As eager as I am to get back to work, I don't know how much help I'd be."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but that is exactly why we picked you," Hotch started to explain. "You will be medically cleared for this level of activity."

"You just told your unit chief that the ninety-five percent of you that is more than ready to get back to work can definitely compensate for the five percent of you that isn't quite there yet," Spencer reminded her. "And even that ninety-five percent of you wouldn't need do much, you'd really only be keeping an eye on me. Strauss said I'm allowed to work eight hours a day, but I have to take a break every morning and afternoon. You could get lots of reading done, or whatever else you do."

He squinted at the shelves in her living room, but they were too far away for him to make out what kind of boxes she had on them. Puzzles? Games?

"You'd be responsible for making sure Spencer actually takes his breaks and eats his lunch," Hotch said. "Make him go outside three times a day for fresh air and physical activity, like recess at elementary school. Same thing in the hotels when we're in the field. You won't need to hold a gun, or a knife, and you won't be required to cook or clean or even drive."

"We usually eat fast food when we're on a case," Spencer said. "If you help a little with the drinks, I can carry everything else."

"Fast food?" Agent Johnson wrinkled her nose. "Sprout – Dr Reid – if I'm going to take care of you, it won't be fast food. We'll find real food."

"I think she just said yes, Hotch." Spencer smiled, though he did wonder what she meant by "real food." Chinese was real food, wasn't it? Pizza definitely was.

"I do have an appointment for my physical therapy once a week," Agent Johnson said.

"We can make accomodations for that when we're in the office."

"So would I have to watch him around the clock? Would he be living here with me when you're not in the field?"

"No offense, but I'd prefer to stay with Hotch," Spencer said.

"No offense, but I'd prefer that, too." But Agent Johnson didn't sound as prickly as she had before. Her face softened slightly as she added, "I love kids, I really do. I love them when they come visit me, and I love them even more when they go back to their families."

"You won't have to watch him around the clock," Hotch assured her, smiling. "You'd come in at eight thirty, and turn him over to me again in the afternoon. But when we're out in the field, your duties would include getting his breakfast and supper and making sure he gets to bed at a decent hour. One of us could take over in the evenings to give you some time off."

"And I can take a bath and get dressed by myself," Spencer added. "So, actually, your biggest worry would be how not to die of boredom."

"Well, I've managed that since I got home from the hospital," Agent Johnson said, "so I think I could manage it at the office. This is not how I imagined going back to work, but hell. All right, I accept. You've got yourself a supervisor, Dr Reid."


	6. Chapter 6

The first guest arrived ten minutes before Jack's birthday party was scheduled to begin. Hotch had been hanging some balloons and streamers from the ceiling of the living room, but as Jack raced to the door to open it, Hotch got down from the stepladder and quickly followed. Spencer watched from the couch. He was no longer tall enough to hang balloons, not even with a stepladder, and Hotch's sister-in-law Jessica had kindly shooed him out of the kitchen when he'd offered to help there. He hadn't even been able to concentrate on reading because of all of Jack's manic activity in the apartment.

"Happy birthday, Jack!" a boy shouted from the doorway. "Here, open it!"

"Let's take it inside first, Jack," Hotch said, and Jack and the other boy raced into the living room. Jack immediately started to rip the wrapping paper off his present, but the boy's attention was caught by something else.

"Oooh!" he cried in excitement, immediately swarming up the stepladder and jumping off. He landed on the couch next to Spencer. "This is fun!"

"Don't do that, please, Paul," Hotch said, even as Paul ran around to do it again. Spencer scrambled out of the way just as the older boy slammed into the cushion where he'd been sitting.

"Yay!" Paul shouted.

"Paul. No jumping on the couch," Hotch commanded, packing up the stepladder and carrying it away.

"Wow, look, Spencer, just like Dad's!" Jack exclaimed, showing Spencer a child's policeman kit including a fake badge, fake gun, and a pair of plastic handcuffs with the key. "Now I can catch the bad guys, too!"

Paul pointed to Spencer. "He's the bad guy! Put the cuffs on him, officer!"

Spencer backed away as Jack tore the package open to get to the cuffs, but then the doorbell rang again, and Jack abandoned the toy in favour of his next guest, Hotch following. Spencer thought the danger was over, but Paul picked up where Jack had left off, and seeing that he was now approaching with the restraints in his hand, Spencer tried again to escape to the bedroom. He was almost there when Paul jumped on him from behind, wrestled him to the floor, and managed to handcuff both his wrists together with only slightly less ability than a real policeman.

"Ow!" Spencer cried as the second cuff clicked shut, biting into his skin.

"Gotcha, bad guy!" Paul crowed.

"Ow, take them off, they're too tight!" Spencer cried, trying to pull free, but though they were fake, the cuffs still held. Worse, the experience was bringing back bad memories of the last time he'd been handcuffed, and fear made him scream, "Hotch!"

He couldn't even sit up or roll over, because Paul was still sitting on him.

"You're the bad guy. You're going to jail. And to First Communion." Paul made that sound even worse than prison. "Now you have to confess all your sins to the priest. And the judge."

Struggling physically and mentally, Spencer shrieked, "I am not a sinner! I don't have anything to confess, you son of a bitch!"

There was a sudden silence in the living room, and then the weight disappeared from Spencer's back as Paul stood up and asked, "Are you going to wash his mouth out with soap, Mr Hotchner?"

"First, I'm going to get these handcuffs off him. Where's the key?" Hotch asked.

"I dunno," Paul replied. Spencer tried again to pull free, but when the cuffs remained firm, he burst into tears.

"What a crybaby," Paul scoffed.

"Paul, that is not nice," Hotch told him. "Now look for the key."

"Here, Dad, I got it," Jack said.

Hotch released the handcuffs, then gathered Spencer into his arms. Spencer immediately cuddled into his embrace and tried to muffle his sobs against Hotch's shoulder.

"We were only playing," Paul defended himself. "I didn't even hurt him!"

"You put the handcuffs on too tight, you little snot-nosed bobolyne!" Spencer shouted back.

Paul looked properly shocked and insulted. "Mr Hotchner, are you going to paddle his behind for saying bad words?"

"No, Paul, I don't believe in hitting children, so I will not be paddling his behind," Hotch explained. "But I think that Spencer needs some time to himself. Jessica, can you take over here?"

"Um, yeah. Sure. All right, boys, let's play Twister! Who can help me lay the mat out?"

Hotch took Spencer into his bedroom and shut the door, then sat down on the bed, rubbing Spencer's back in silence for several moments. Eventually, he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I had a flashback!" Spencer admitted between sobs. "Tobias Hankel!"

"I've got you, Spencer, you're okay. You're safe."

"I couldn't get away, Hotch! They were just – they were just plastic handcuffs, but I couldn't break them, I couldn't get away!"

"That's scary, I know," Hotch assured him.

"I hate this, Hotch, I hate it! I hate being a child, I hate being so weak and helpless and I really hate getting beat up by six-year-olds!"

"I'd hate it, too," Hotch said. "It's pretty rough, being a kid."

"It's not fair that I have to go through it twice, when the first time was bad enough!"

"No, it's not fair."

"Everything bad seems so much worse! And I really hate crying all the time, too!" He was still wailing even as he spoke. "It's like that kid said, I really am a crybaby, and I hate it!"

"You're not a crybaby, Spencer. You're in a very difficult position at the moment and actually, you deal with it pretty well most of the time."

"I still hate it!" But after a few more sobs, Spencer managed to stop bawling. Eventually, his tears stopped, and he wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, then sighed in exhaustion.

"Feeling better now?" Hotch asked, letting Spencer detach himself from the embrace and sit down on the bed next to him.

"Yeah." Remembering the altercation, Spencer resigned himself to what would certainly come. "Are you going to put me in time-out again?"

"For what? Having PTSD? No, because then I'd have to put myself in time-out, too, and we'd spend the rest of our lives there," Hotch said. "But I will ask you, what did you call Paul? Bobo—what?"

Spencer managed a little smile. "Bobolyne. It's an old English insult, it means fool. It was actually invented a bit later than the 15th century, but my mother liked to say it, just because she liked the sound of it. Bobolyne."

"Snot-nosed bobolyne. I like the sound of that, too," Hotch said, and grinned. "But we can pretend you've been in time-out, if you want to join the party again."

"Can't I just stay in here?" Spencer asked.

"If you really want to."

"I really want to." He sniffed, and searched for a distraction. "I could call up Morgan and see how the case is coming along."

"All right. You want me to tell you when it's time for cake and ice cream?"

Spencer hesitated, then shook his head. "Not if Paul's still there. He'd probably shove my face into it, or dump it down the back of my neck."

"You might be right, he's certainly a handful. Okay, you can have yours later." Hotch said, then stood up and went out. Spencer exhaled in relief, took a moment to collect himself, then dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

Morgan answered on the third ring. "Hey, Pretty Boy, what's up?"

"Hey, Morgan. I just called to see how the case is going."

"You called at just the right time, kid. We caught the Unsub and we're practically at the airport now."

"You're coming home to-night?" Spencer was surprised at how excited the simple news made him feel.

"Yes, and I am going to sleep all weekend!"

"That bad, huh?"

"It was no fun doing this case without you and Hotch, that's for sure," Morgan said. "Took us twice as long. Hey, any word from SHIELD yet about getting you back to normal?"

"No, not from SHIELD, but Hotch and Strauss and I made a deal, and I'm coming back to work on Monday," Spencer announced proudly. "I can even go out on cases, too."

"You can? At your age? What kind of deal? You gonna be our mascot now?"

"Um, well, I have to have a supervisor with me. It's Agent Johnson, from the arson unit."

"Johnson … Sarah Johnson? I think I dated her once or twice. She's pretty nice." Morgan sounded approving.

"No, Alleluia Johnson."

"Ally? I've met her, too." Morgan's voice changed ever so slightly, or maybe it was the difference in backgorund noise. "She's very … intense. And, what, she just agreed to transfer to our unit and baby-sit you? How'd you get that to happen?"

"She's actually on medical leave after being shot in the hand," Spencer explained. "And it wouldn't be baby-sitting. She'll just be keeping an eye on me, make sure I'm not alone in the hotel room, that sort of thing."

"Sounds like baby-sitting to me."

"She'll be supervising."

"Agent-sitting," Morgan teased, then relented. "That's great, kid. I'm glad for you. How'd you like your week off with Hotch? Did you do anything fun?"

"We went to the library on Wednesday, and the ophthalmologist yesterday. My new glasses should be ready by Thursday at the latest."

"Only you would think going to the eye doctor is fun," Morgan grinned. "Hey, isn't it Jack's birthday to-day? When's he having his party?"

"Um … right now," Spencer admitted.

"Right now? Reid, why aren't you in there with him playing party games and eating cake, instead of talking on the phone with me?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, Morgan," Spencer told him.

"Okay, sorry. Hey, tell Jack happy birthday from me." Spencer heard a sudden chorus of voices in the background, and Morgan added, "and from everybody else here, too."

"I will."

"We're getting ready to take off now, so I gotta go. Have a great weekend, kid, and we'll see you on Monday at the latest."

"Yeah, see you, Morgan."

* * *

9 October 2011

On Sunday at lunch, Hotch said, "Jack, how'd you like to visit Henry and Will this afternoon?"

"Yay!" Jack replied. "Can Spencer come, too?"

"No, Spencer has to come with daddy."

"Why? What will you be doing?" Jack asked. "Is it like an appointment?"

"Well, yeah, kind of, buddy. I'm going to talk with my team, and Spencer has to come with me," Hotch said. Spencer noticed a slight hesitation before Hotch went on. "He has some special information about a case we're working on."

Jack's excitement and curiosity faded abruptly, and he was quiet for a moment before asking, "Dad?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Are you going to – is Spencer – is he going to work the case with you?"

Hotch froze for just a moment, and then he smiled sadly and said, "No, Jack, he won't be working the case with me. He's just going to talk to us about something that he saw the bad guy do, that's all."

"Oh, okay." Jack looked relieved, and smiled again, but then he asked, "Spencer, what did you see? What did the bad guy do?"

Spencer hadn't been expecting that, but thankfully, Hotch came to his rescue. "Jack, he's only supposed to talk about that with my team, okay? Now, I think Will might want to take you and Henry out for ice cream, so why don't you think of which two flavours you might want?"

"Strawberry and strawberry," Jack replied instantly, and Spencer exhaled in relief that Jack had been successfully distracted.

"Okay, then, we'll tell Will when we get there. But first we have to clean up lunch and then do our reading. We might be able to finish _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ to-day."

Eventually, however, they were pulling into a parking space near JJ and Will's townhouse, and Spencer suggested, "Maybe I should stay in the car?"

"No, you've got to come meet him," Jack exclaimed, unbuckling himself from his car seat. "Will's great! He gives me and Henry airplane rides!"

Hotch got out of the car, opened Jack's door and let him out, then took his son by the hand and came around to the passenger side. Teasingly, he asked, "Don't you want an airplane ride, too, Spencer?"

Spencer gave him his best indignant look. "No, really, I'll just stay here."

"I can't leave you unattended in the car even for a minute," Hotch said. "It only takes one person to see you there and call the police on me for child endangerment. So, come on, out."

Spencer unbuckled himself and got out. Hotch was probably going to pass him off as his nephew again, but he wasn't sure how his boss would explain leaving only Jack with Will, and not Spencer, too. He tried to lag behind, maybe even go unnoticed, but Hotch said, "Spencer, take my hand so we can cross the street together."

They had barely set foot in the road when Spencer saw the door to the townhouse open. With Henry at his side, Will came out onto the step and just stood there, watching them come up onto the sidewalk and enter through the gate. The closer they got, the more Spencer could feel his stare, and the more convinced he became that, somehow, Will knew who he was and what had happened.

"Hey, Hotch," Will said in his New Orleans drawl, never taking his eyes off Spencer. "Hey, Jack. And … this is Spencer?"

He knew.

"Hi, Will, and yes, this is Spencer," Hotch said. Spencer wasn't sure how to respond, but Jack didn't give him any opportunity to do so anyway. Letting go of his father's hand, Jack ran forwards and raised both arms to Will. "Uncle Will! Can I have an airplane ride?"

"Sure thing, Jack." Will sounded relieved to have his attention turned elsewhere. "Here, let's go down on the grass so there's more room. Don't want Airplane Jack to crash into our house. He's so big he'd destroy the whole neighbourhood."

Jack giggled at the absurd idea, then shrieked with joy as Will spun him around. Ignoring Spencer, Henry made his way down the steps. "Me, too, Dad, me, too!"

"All right, Airplane Jack, coming in for a landing. Ready for take-off, Airplane Henry?" Will set Jack down on the grass, gave Spencer a quick, questioning glance, then reached out for his son.

"Yeah!" Henry squealed. Will took him by the arm and leg and turned him in great swooping circles. Finally, Airplane Henry made a happy landing as well.

"Now it's Airplane Spencer's turn!" Jack announced. Will gave Spencer another questioning glances, and even hesitantly extended a hand, but Spencer took a firm step backwards. Will would never offer to give the adult Dr Reid an airplane ride, so why did he feel obliged to do it now?

"Airplane Spencer will not be flying because he was hit by an electro-magnetic pulse and suffered a massive system malfunction," Spencer announced.

Hotch chuckled lightly and a visibly shocked Will said, "It really is you."

"I told you," JJ said, coming out. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Hotch. Ready to go?"

Spencer waited until they were in the car before he asked, "JJ, when did you tell Will about me being de-aged?"

"Just this morning, why?"

"You never told me Emily was alive, no matter how many times I came over here crying, but then you go and tell Will about what happened to me. You know, Hotch specifically told those two policemen not to talk about it with anybody, to keep it confidential. And I asked Garcia, and she said she hadn't even told Kevin. But apparently, that didn't apply to you!"

"Spence, it's not a secret anymore, everybody in the BAU knows about it—"

"Most of what's going around the BAU are rumours about aliens! And Will isn't even in the BAU!"

"No, but he's my partner, and he heard me mention you on the phone. I had to tell him why there'd be a four-year-old named Spencer in the car with Jack instead of Uncle Spencer. Okay, I made a mistake there, I admit it. But, Spence, it's not the same as it was with Emily. Her life was in danger, and the fewer people who knew about it, the better."

"You could have trusted me! I wouldn't have told anybody. I wouldn't even have mentioned it to anybody on the team if you'd told me not to. I just – I hurt so bad and I grieved so hard, and it was all for nothing! You know, I actually caught you playing online Scrabble with Emily one Sunday morning when I came over, but I didn't know it was her until afterwards. How could you sit with me and listen to me cry knowing the entire time that she was right there, that I could have joined the game and been happy again?" Spencer found that he was close to tears just remembering, so he bit his lip hard and focused on the physical pain to keep from crying yet again. "But when there's a secret about me, you go and tell everybody!"

"Will isn't everybody! And who would he have told? Who would have believed him? He didn't even believe it himself until he saw you just now! And, anyway, your life is not in danger, Spence. Dr Sakenfeld is in custody and he was never trying to kill you. I'm sorry you feel like I betrayed your trust, but –"

"But what, Jennifer?" Spencer asked, angrily emphasizing her name. "Are you saying that this doesn't matter because there isn't a deadly threat involved?"

"No," JJ said immediately, then added, "Okay, yes, I suppose for a moment, I did want to say that. But I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Spence. You matter, and your trust matters to me, and I am absolutely heartsick at losing it, and knowing that it was my actions – my mistakes – that led to it."

Yeah, right, Spencer thought, but he didn't say it out loud.

"Is there any way I can make it up to you?" JJ went on.

"I don't know," Spencer said. "I just know that saying sorry doesn't make it better."

"No, you're right, it doesn't," JJ agreed. "And I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I couldn't."

"You couldn't, or you wouldn't?" Spencer challenged. "Because playing online Scrabble with Emily was more of a threat to her than I ever would have been!"

"What?" JJ protested, but then she slumped a little. "Okay, I was selfish, I'll admit that, too. But I thought she'd want some connection to us, no matter how tiny."

"I would have liked a tiny connection to her, too!" Spencer shouted back. "But I wouldn't have put her life in danger through a stupid online game! You know what Garcia can do with the internet. What if Doyle had found someone like Garcia? They could have found Emily within minutes, and that would have been your fault!"

"They would have had to have known she was alive first!" JJ shot back. "Spence, how many times do I have to say I'm sorry! I made mistakes. But, looking back, you know, no matter what I chose, it would have been the wrong choice, so I did what I thought was best and –"

The car stopped a little abruptly, enough to shake them both out of the argument, and Spencer looked around in surprise. "We're at Rossi's? I thought we were having a team meeting."

"We're having it here, with ice cream," Hotch said. "Dave thought we could have a relaxing get-together, I thought we still had a few things to discuss, so we're combining it."


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, I've allowed two reviews from people who weren't signed in but who had something to say about the Emily situation, but I think that's enough now. This is a story, not a forum for discussing (or ranting about) the show, so I'll be deleting any future comments about how the show writers handled the Emily situation. I'd appreciate it if you could focus on what I personally have done right (or wrong) and say something about my writing style, the pacing, my characterisation of the canon characters, character interaction, my OC's, descriptions, transitions, dialogue, or anything else referring to my writing. Is there something I wrote that you particularly loved or hated? Tell me! Because there are other aspects to this story than just the fallout after Emily's supposed death.

Also, have any of you ever heard of the Oreo method of critiquing? It's basically sandwiching your corrections or critical feedback between two honest, positive statements. Find something you really like and praise it. Then point out what needs to be improved. Finally, give another positive remark, say something encouraging. Don't just rant about one negative thing, please.

Thank you all for reading and commenting, following and favouriting!

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"Well, here's a set of grouchy faces!" Rossi exclaimed as he opened the door. "What's going on?"

"JJ and Spencer were just having a discussion in the car," Hotch said.

"Did you offer to pull over so they could get out and walk?" Rossi stepped aside and motioned them inside.

Letting JJ step in first, Hotch put his thumb and index finger together to show how close he'd come to doing just that. Spencer lagged behind Hotch, then felt something brush his arm. He looked over, found himself face to snout with a black Labrador that seemed almost as tall as he was, and couldn't jump away fast enough, squealing in surprise as the dog barked.

"Mudgie!" Rossi called. "Here, boy, heel!"

The Labrador trotted obediently to Rossi's side and barked again at Spencer, then whined a little. Spencer hid behind Hotch, his heart hammering in his chest, and was thankful that his boss did not mention "the Reid effect."

"I forgot you have a dog, Rossi," JJ said, sounding a bit flustered as well.

"Mudgie doesn't usually bark," Rossi said, fondling the dog's ears. "Sorry about that, Reid. You want to come over and say hello properly?"

Spencer shook his head, and when Hotch sat down on the couch, Spencer sat next to him, then pulled his legs up onto the cushion in case Mudgie wanted a bite of tibia con carne.

"Don't put your shoes on the furniture, Spencer," Hotch told him, so Spencer took his shoes off and dumped them on the floor, watching Mudgie the entire time, then sat cross-legged. Thankfully, the dog showed no signs of bouncing over to chew on his sneakers, or on him.

"Can I get anybody a drink? Reid, I've got some fruit juice for you."

"No, thanks, Rossi."

"If you've got some Scotch, I wouldn't say no," JJ said, and Rossi went immediately to the drinks.

"Hotch?" he offered, but Hotch refused. Pointedly not looking at Spencer, JJ took a large swallow.

Thankfully, the doorbell rang again. Rossi went over to open the door, and Mudgie followed. But as soon as Emily had stepped in and greeted them both, Mudgie came back to sniff at Spencer, whining a little. Spencer found himself standing up on the couch and pressing against the back of it, seriously considering climbing on Hotch's shoulders to get out of Mudgie's reach. Rossi called his dog away again, and sent him over to the cushion in the corner.

"Are you scared of dogs?" Emily asked, taking a seat in an easy chair.

"I was, but I thought I'd grown out of it," Spencer said, sitting back down. Even though he could feel his panic reside, he still kept an eye on Mudgie for any signs of movement.

Rossi indicated the decanter of Scotch, but Emily waved a rejection and turned back to Spencer. "Did you have a bad experience with one?"

"There was this family that moved into our neighbourhood with a St. Bernard," Spencer said. "I didn't know it until one day when I was running home from school, and I tripped, and when I got up, it was standing right there inside the fence, looking at me. It was so big, it scared me even more than the kids –"

"The family's kids?" Emily asked.

"No, um, the kids that were chasing me," Spencer admitted.

"Yeah, dogs can be scary, especially when they're big and you're small," Emily said. "I prefer cats. I love the way they purr and knead you with their paws."

"Did you know that kittens knead while they're nursing, to help stimulate the milk supply?" Spencer asked, glad to be off the subject of dogs and being chased. "So when they're older and they make the kneading motion, it means they feel as happy and comfortable as when they were kittens being fed by their mother."

"I think I heard that somewhere," Emily said. "I just wish they wouldn't always use their claws."

"Actually, not all cats do –" Spencer started, but Emily was quick to interrupt.

"Sergio does."

The doorbell rang again, and Spencer watched warily as Mudgie followed his owner over to open the door. Derek and Garcia came in, Derek greeting Rossi first and then Mudgie, and Garcia doing the exact opposite. But just when Mudgie was about to escape his two admirers and run to Spencer yet again, Rossi grabbed him by the collar and escorted him back to his pillow, telling him firmly to stay.

"Oooh, Spencer, let me give you a hug!" Garcia squealed, coming over and doing just that. "You look cuter every time I see you!"

"You only saw me on Thursday." Spencer wriggled until she let him stand on the couch again, but then she brushed his hair away from his forehead. "Looks like your stitches are almost dissolved now. And if your scar were just a little more crooked here and here, you'd look exactly like Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, next time he should fall onto something lightning-shaped," Emily pointed out. "And his hair should be darker, too."

"And he needs glasses," Morgan added.

Garcia laughed, admitting defeat, then went to take a seat. Quickly brushing his hair back to where it belonged, Spencer said, "I thought you were going to sleep all weekend, Morgan."

"I was, until I heard there would be ice cream at Rossi's," Morgan said.

"The only question is, do we want it now, or should we have the team meeting first?" Rossi asked.

"Life is short, eat dessert first," Garcia said.

"Or we can save the best for last," Emily countered.

"Or we could do both at once, unless it's the kind of team meeting that will ruin your appetite," JJ said, and she wasn't teasing.

"I'm hoping it won't be," Hotch said, which made the others look at him and JJ and then over to Spencer, too.

"Well, if that's decided, then I've got it all set up in the kitchen, so everybody come in and serve yourselves," Rossi said. "Not you, Mudgie. Stay!"

He went in first to get various cartons from the freezer and set them on the counter, where everything else was already prepared, from bowls and spoons to bananas and jars of toppings. There was even whipped cream, a bowl of chopped nuts, and another one of maraschino cherries.

"Wow, Rossi, you're spoiling us," Emily said.

"No, I'm spoiling myself and I just invited you guys along for the ride. Reid, you want some help?"

Spencer had found a scooper and was trying to sink it into the chocolate ice cream, but he didn't have the strength to make a dent in the frozen treat, even when he used two hands. The edge of the scooper slipped and hit the countertop, and the carton of ice cream flew in the opposite direction, landing on the floor.

"I've got it," said Hotch, going around to pick it up.

Spencer grimaced, then suggested, "We could always soften it up a bit in the microwave, then maybe I could do it myself."

"If you're going to do that, let me get some first, because I don't like it when it's soft," Morgan said.

"Yeah, me, neither," Emily added.

Rossi plucked the scooper from Spencer's grip and reached his other hand out for the carton, then carved a small serving off the top and dropped it into the bowl. "Okay, Reid, what else do you want? Vanilla, strawberry, mint chocolate chip?"

"Rainbow sherbet?" Emily offered.

"No, just chocolate," Spencer said. "Can I have two scoops, please?"

Rossi thrust the bowl at Morgan, who had taken over the chocolate ice cream, and Morgan obediently dropped in the huge serving he'd meant for himself. When he then used the scooper to cut it up and remove the larger part, Spencer scowled. "Hey!"

"You eat that first, Pretty Boy, then we'll talk about more." Morgan said.

"How about some banana?" Rossi went on. "Caramel topping? Whipped cream and a couple of cherries?"

"Strawberry topping?"

"Strawberry topping coming right up."

"Thanks, Rossi." Spencer reached for the bowl.

"That's it? Nothing else?"

"That's it." Spencer waited for everybody else to get their ice cream, then followed them back into the living room. Mudgie lifted his head to see what was going on, and Spencer hastily climbed onto the couch where he'd been sitting before. To his horror, the dog actually got up and loped towards him, making Spencer stand up and press against the back of the couch again. Thankfully, Rossi called Mudgie back before the dog's questing snout got too close to Spencer's feet.

"He's sure fascinated by you, Reid," Rossi said, sending Mudgie back to his cushion. "I don't know why."

"You know, some dogs can sniff out diseases like cancer," Spencer suggested. "I hope Mudgie's not sniffing me because I'm about to come down with chickenpox. Although actually, the incubation period for chickenpox can range from ten to twenty one days, with the average being fourteen to sixteen days, and my possible exposure was on Wednesday. So if Mudgie can smell that, then he must be very sensitive to the varicella-zoster virus."

"You were exposed to chickenpox?" JJ asked in alarm.

"Maybe. I did come within six feet of a girl who had it."

"Or else Mudgie's sniffing you for some other reason," Morgan said. "Mudgie's a hunting dog, right, Rossi? Maybe Spencer smells like a dead duck to him."

"I don't have feathers, so I can't smell like any kind of duck," Spencer pointed out.

Rossi went along with the teasing. "In that case, Morgan, he wouldn't just sniff Reid, he'd try to retrieve him, too."

"But maybe I do emit a different odour, now that I've been de-aged," Spencer mused. "Maybe the effects of the machine changed something about my cells that would make them give off just a slightly different scent than that of other people, or maybe it left some kind of faint olfactory trace on me that washing hasn't been able to remove –"

"Okay, this is getting too weird," Emily said. "I did not come here to sit around and talk about how Reid smells."

"Especially not while we're eating," JJ put in.

"I thought we could use this chance to talk about trust," Hotch put in smoothly. "We've had some time to get used to Emily being back, but I know that Spencer is still struggling with what happened and how we handled it. Is anybody else having any problems?"

There was a silence, then Morgan spoke up. "Like I said before, Hotch, I trust you guys to have my back in the field. And I understand why you did what you did. But, I do think you could have trusted us. It hurt, but it's in the past now, and I'm willing to move on."

"Thank you, Morgan." Hotch waited. "Anybody else? Garcia?"

"I was hurt, too," Garcia admitted. "Just a little bit. I mean, I think I've worked for the FBI long enough to be considered trustworthy, but I get it if some people might still be suspicious of me because of my background – not saying that you or JJ are some of those people, sir – people higher up. It kind of goes with the territory when you've been a hacker, you know, even if I'm reformed now. Mostly. I mean, completely. So I understand."

"Garcia, this had nothing to do with your background, nothing at all. And I consider your trustworthiness to be at the very highest level," Hotch said. "That goes for you, too, Spencer. I take responsibility for choosing not to reveal this secret to either of you, and as I've said before, I am working to re-establish your trust in me."

"I still trust you, sir," Garcia said quickly. "And JJ, and Emily."

"Thank you, Garcia," Hotch said, and JJ and Emily both echoed him.

"Emily? What are you thoughts on the situation?" Hotch asked.

"I trust all of you," she said quickly. "I've never had a problem with that."

"Then why didn't you let me know you were still alive?" Spencer blurted out. "Hotch knew. JJ knew. But if you trusted me, why didn't you reach out to me?"

"I wanted to, I really did," Emily said. "But by the time I was awake and aware enough to know what was going on, it was a done deal. And I knew that even the very little contact I had with JJ was risky."

"If it was so risky, why'd you keep playing online Scrabble with her? Didn't you stop to think how fast someone like Garcia could have tracked you through that?"

Emily looked guilty. "I'm sorry, Reid. I missed you all so much, I guess I just wanted something ..."

"You missed us?" Spencer almost shouted, anger clouding the hurt. "_You_ missed _us_? You knew we were still alive and that there was a chance you could come back someday! I thought you were dead and I'd never see you again, ever! I missed you so much I—"

"What?" Emily asked.

But Spencer shook his head, not willing to mention his Dilaudid problem to her or JJ. Somehow, he didn't think they'd react the same way as Hotch had. And maybe the thing that hurt the most wasn't the fact that he'd been kept out of the loop. Maybe it was the fact that all his pain and all his cravings had been for nothing, which made him feel both hurt and angry.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," he said, and slid off the couch. The way to the front door led too close to Mudgie and the rest of the team, so he ran deeper into the house instead and into the nearest bathroom. He wasn't going to cry, he told himself firmly. He wasn't a crybaby and he wasn't going to cry this time.

After a few moments, there was a knock on the door, and Emily called out, "Reid? Can I come in?"

"No!" he said, hugging his legs to his chest and biting his lip. Concentrating on the physical pain kept him from focusing on his emotions and kept the tears from coming, at least for a minute or two. But eventually, they broke through, and he started to sob. Again.

Eventually, there was another knock and Hotch said, "Spencer, it's time to go. Are you coming out, or am I coming in?"

"I'm coming out," Spencer called, his voice breaking in the middle. "Just a second!"

He climbed up onto the toilet, leaned over the sink, and turned the tap on, then stuck his face into the running water. It helped stop the crying, but as he was drying himself off, he realized he'd got water down the front of his pullover and in his hair. Still, it was better to be wet than to run bawling into Hotch's arms like he always seemed to be doing these days.

"Spencer?"

He opened the door, but Hotch wasn't the only one waiting on the other side. Emily was there, too.

"Did you fall in?" she asked, but Spencer went by without speaking. He could see that the living room was empty, the others must have already left, and Rossi had taken Mudgie away, too. His shoes were still there,and he leaned over to put them on again.

"Reid, please, just let me say one thing before you go?"

Spencer stopped tying his laces for a moment, but didn't look up to face Emily.

"I'm so sorry, I guess I didn't realize how hard it was for you. JJ didn't really say much, so I assumed you were handling it, but now I wish I'd contacted you, too. We could have played Scrabble together – then maybe I'd have had some better competition."

"I wouldn't have played Scrabble with you," Spencer said, still staring down at the floor. "I wouldn't have put you at risk like that."

"Okay, sorry, bad joke. But can you please accept my apology and let me try to earn back your trust?"

Spencer considered. "I – I'll think about it."

"Thank you."

"It might take a while." He finished with his shoes and straightened up, still looking away.

"That's okay. Take all the time you need." Emily hesitated, then asked, "Can I give you a hug?"

Spencer debated whether he should say yes, and finally shrugged. "Okay."

Emily knelt down and gave him a quick squeeze, which he did not return, even though it almost felt good. Then she stood up. "I'll see you guys to-morrow in the office."

As small as it was, the hug had helped. Only a little bit, but at least it was a start.

"Can you accept my apology and let me try to re-gain your trust, too?" JJ asked.

"No," Spencer said, but the effect of Emily's hug made him soften it almost immediately to, "Not yet."

"Can you at least tell me you'll think about it?"

Spencer shrugged again. "I don't know. Maybe later."

"Spencer?" Hotch asked. "Are you going to have a problem working with JJ in the office or out in the field?"

Spencer looked over to him, mentally running through the possible consequences of each answer, then decided. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I won't let it be a problem, sir." It would be too easy for Hotch to want to separate them if the atmosphere was too strained, and Spencer feared that the easiest solution would involve his boss rescinding his permission for Spencer to come to work at all.

"If you think it's starting to be a problem, promise you will come to me before it gets out of hand?"

"I promise, sir." But only if he thought he could convince Hotch to decide in his favour and not JJ's.

"I'll do my best not to make things worse," JJ said.

"Thanks, JJ," Hotch said. "All right, then, let's go get Jack and go home."


	8. Chapter 8

So FFN finally approved my request for a new category in Books – Rumple Buttercup! Yay! And I've posted my little fanfic "The Pumpkin Signal" there. You can check my profile for the link if you're interested.

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10 October 2011

The next morning, after an unsettling dream, Spencer woke up early. He and JJ had been discussing something about Airplane Henry, but it had got heated and Hotch had stepped in, sending JJ to her office and taking Spencer downstairs to the emergency childcare room. Childcare! And they hadn't even been talking about the Emily situation! Spencer was glad he hadn't woken up screaming or crying, though it had taken a few moments for his heart to stop pounding so hard.

Spencer and Jack had been taking turns with the sleeping bag ever since the coin toss, and it had been Spencer's turn for the bed again. Now he slipped out of it and got dressed in the new clothes he'd convinced Hotch to buy him on Saturday afternoon. Well, he'd supplied the money from his account, but Hotch had done the actual purchasing. He definitely did not want to show up for work looking like a kid on the way to pre-school, so he'd insisted on choosing clothes that were as close to his usual style as he could get. They had also found a small watch that wasn't too childish, along with a backpack big enough for a book and a few other supplies. Spencer made sure it hadn't mysteriously come unpacked in the night.

Then he had to wait for Hotch to wake up, and then Jack, and for breakfast, and for them to drive Jack to school. Finally, however, Hotch pulled into a parking space at the BAU building, and Spencer leaped out of the car almost before Hotch pulled the hand brake. Making sure his new identity badge was still attached to the bottom of his sweater under his jacket, he stuck his arms through the straps of his backpack and settled it on his shoulders, then headed towards the entrance. Back to work at last!

"Spencer!" Hotch called from the other side of the car, and when Spencer looked back, Hotch was holding out his hand expectantly. Slightly disgruntled, Spencer went over to take it. As soon as they were out of the parking lot and at the main door, however, he let go.

The security personal had already seen him when he'd come on Thursday, but apparently nobody had told them he was now officially back at work.

"Just let me get you a visitor's pass, kiddo," one of the employees said, the one who'd been calling Spencer kiddo ever since Spencer had started work at the BAU. Spencer had always privately thought that the man was so close to retirement age that he probably could have got away with calling Hotch kiddo, too.

"I don't need one, I have this," Spencer said, unzipping his jacket to reveal his badge. When the man leaned over to inspect it, Spencer unclipped it and let him have a closer look.

"Is this for real?" the man asked Hotch, taking the badge and checking it back and front. "And here I thought I'd seen it all."

As they waited for the elevator, a few female agents came through security, and Spencer could tell the minute they spotted him.

"Billy the Kid!" one of them squealed in a mock whisper, but another one quietly corrected her. "Spencer the Kid, you mean."

"Isn't he adorable?" the first one whispered back, and behind them, the third woman said a little too loudly, "What do you think Hotch would look like if he'd been de-aged?"

Spencer glanced up at Hotch. As far as he could see, his boss showed only the stern expression he usually wore, but he had a feeling Hotch had heard, and was simply ignoring the women.

"Probably exactly the same way he looks now," a louder, more familiar female voice stated, and Agent Johnson came around from behind, a large sports bag hanging from one shoulder. While the three other agents opted to avoid them by taking the stairs, she approached and made a formal greeting. "Agent Hotchner. Dr. Reid."

"Agent Johnson," Hotch replied, equally formal.

"Hi," Spencer replied. The elevator dinged and they got in.

"I hope you don't mind, I've asked Facilities Management if I can have a desk in your bullpen," Agent Johnson said to Hotch. "I've got to have someplace to sit while I'm keeping an eye on Dr Reid."

"That's perfectly acceptable," Hotch replied.

They got out on the sixth floor and entered the bullpen. None of the other agents had arrived yet, but two men from FM were already there, positioning a desk and chair a little off to one side.

"That was fast," Hotch said. Agent Johnson agreed, then strode over and placed her bag on the empty surface. Spencer went to his own desk, shed his backpack and hung his jacket over the back of the chair, then climbed up onto the seat, only to realize it would need adjusting. He tried to work the handle himself, but couldn't move it sufficiently in the right direction.

"Hotch, can you help me with my chair?" he called out. Hotch came out of the kitchenette holding a cup of coffee, but put it down on the desk and helped Spencer get the seat to the right height.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"I should be okay now, thanks." Spencer picked up a pen, opened the first case file, and started to read. Emily was the next person in, and Spencer made an effort to engage her in conversation as part of the first step of trying to trust her again. It went surprisingly well. Then JJ came in, and Spencer felt his newfound amiability shrink almost instantly. Fortunately, she only gave him a quick, impersonal hello, and he returned an equally curt hi. One by one, his other co-workers also came in, chatting briefly with him and each other. He was vaguely aware of them getting coffee, introducing themselves to Agent Johnson, and settling down at their desks. It felt like any other Monday at the BAU – until he became aware of a quiet beeping over to one side, like somebody's watch alarm, and a moment later, Agent Johnson came up to his desk, carrying her sports bag.

"Break time, Sprout," she announced.

"Uh, yeah, just let me finish this paragraph," he mumbled, but she laid her hand on his arm, and he looked up in surprise.

"Now," she said.

Spencer put the pen down. He didn't want to protest too much in case she complained to Hotch or even higher up.

"Get your jacket, we're going outside," she continued on in the same commanding tone.

"I know, I know, fresh air and physical activity," Spencer recited. It was part of the deal for letting him work at all. He pulled his jacket on as he walked out of the bullpen, and was headed for the elevator when Agent Johnson said, "Nope, we're taking the stairs."

Going down wasn't a problem, but Spencer wondered if she'd insist on climbing all six flights up again when they came back. That would cut into his work time even more.

"Agent Hotchner suggested I walk you around the building," Agent Johnson said disdainfully as they went down. "But my sister-in-law teaches first grade with an emphasis on physical education, so I sat down with her this weekend and we came up with some better ideas."

"What kind of ideas?" Spencer asked. He eyed her sports bag warily and hoped the ideas didn't involve kicking soccer balls, or dribbling basketballs, or playing with any other kind of ball, for that matter.

"Oh, stairs, running, jumping, that kind of thing."

"Did you tell your sister-in-law about me?"

"Of course not. I just said it was related to a case, and need-to-know."

Spencer smiled, wondering what the sister-in-law thought of a case that included children's games on a need-to-know basis. Maybe she thought Agent Johnson would be going undercover somewhere to flush out a school-aged arsonist.

Once they were outside, Agent Johnson said, "All right, first we're going to march."

She demonstrated, lifting her knees high and swinging her free arm. After a moment, feeling ridiculous, Spencer followed suit.

"And we're going to sing," she continued.

Spencer stopped marching and stared at her. She stared back. "Yes, Sprout, you will sing, and you will march right here next to me so that I can see if you're trying to get away with anything. Now come on."

Marching, she guided him towards a large open section of lawn, and began to sing. "We are marching to Pretoria! Pretoria! Pretoria! We are marching to Pretoria! Pretoria, hurrah!"

Noticing his lack of audible participation, she gave him a slight push with her injured hand. "Come on, Sprout, sing!"

"I don't know that song, _Alleluia_," he shot back, and for the first time, he saw her smile.

"You can call me Ally, Spencer," she said. "And you've just heard the song, so now you know it, and now you can sing it."

"Did you know that Pretoria is a real city—"

"No talking, Spencer, we are singing as we march!"

They started up again, and Spencer mumbled along, feeling even more ridiculous than before. Ally led him in and out around a few trees, then back to the open lawn, and with the end of the song, stopped marching and set down her bag.

"Now we're going to play Run Past Ally Alligator," she announced, and opened the bag. She took out two plastic bottles, each about a quarter full with water. Hugging one to her body with her right arm, she set the other bottle in the grass, then walked across the lawn, counting her steps. At seventy, she stopped and put the second bottle down, then came back and carried the entire bag to the middle point between the two bottles. Spencer watched as she took out a yoga mat and unrolled it, placing it on the grass about a yard away from the bag. Finally, she pulled out a bundle of long strips of cloth.

"Come here," she called to Spencer. "Take these five green ones and put four of them over there by that bottle. Keep one in your hand, and stay there."

He separated the green strips and walked them to the far bottle, then laid them on the grass. Ally was doing the same on the other side with the red strips, and when she'd finished, she came back to the mat.

"Now, I'm the alligator and you're going to run past me while I try to catch your flag," she said. She lay face down on the mat and extended both arms over her head, clapping them together to imitate alligator jaws.

"Hold your flag in the hand that's facing me, and run from one bottle to the next," she sent on. "You have to run between me and the bag, you can't go around because there's a deep cliff on that side and you'll fall down it."

Spencer looked dubiously at her, and she amended, "Well, it would be cheating, anyway. Now, when you get to the other side, you drop your green flag and pick up a red one, then run back. The person who has the most flags at the end of ten rounds is the winner. Ready? Set, go!"

Spencer jogged towards the opposite bottle, and when he got close to Ally, she reared her upper body off the mat and snapped the green flag right out of his hand with her wrists.

"You're going to have to be faster to get past Ally Alligator!" she exclaimed. "Now get the next flag, and sprint! Maybe I won't get you if you're fast enough."

Spencer tried again, holding the red flag in his left hand and speeding up as he got close to Ally, but she snatched the cloth again.

"Keep running, don't stop," she encouraged. "You never know, Ally Alligator might come crawling after you."

But by the time they'd finished the ten rounds, Spencer had only managed to save the last flag, mostly by pulling it out of Ally's range as he raced by. She laughed, but also praised his strategy. "Good one, Spencer! Okay, help me pack these up, and now it's time to go in again."

But by "go in" she meant "march," as Spencer found out when he tried to race ahead and was pulled back to join her in yet another round of "Pretoria." When the song finished, Spencer explained the difference between alligators and crocodiles as they climbed the six flights of stairs. By the time they reached their floor, he was panting hard enough to cut his explanation short. He got his water bottle out of his backpack, almost feeling as though he had to take another break to recover from the first one, while Ally sat down at her desk looking as though she'd done nothing more strenuous than walk in the park.

At least Ally let him walk to lunch, instead of making him march down the stairs and all the way around to the FBI dining hall. He didn't think he'd been there since he'd graduated from the academy. She bypassed the lines of trainee agents and spoke to someone on the other side of a certain counter, then made her way to a small table. Spencer noticed a handwritten sign claiming it was reserved, but Ally told him to sit down even as she took the seat opposite. One of the kitchen workers came over, carrying a tray, and slid it in front of them. There was a small carton of milk and two plates on the tray.

"Thanks, Joe," Ally said.

"N-no prob-problem," Joe replied, and went away again. "En-enjoy!"

"Can you take your plate?" Ally asked. As soon as Spencer had lifted his up, she moved the tray over to her side, her meal still on it.

"What's this?" he asked, looking down at his food.

"Eggplant and lentils," she replied. "I asked Joe to put a little extra cheese on it for you."

So this was what she'd meant by "real food." Spencer stared down at it. "I've never eaten eggplant before."

"There's butternut squash in here, too," she mentioned, taking a bite. "Yummy."

Hesitantly, Spencer took a tiny forkful, and then another one. It wasn't too bad. It was definitely better than some meals he'd eaten. He'd had lentils once, and remembered thinking that they not only tasted kind of muddy but also reminded him of rabbit pellets. These lentils were different. Tastier. He tried a bigger bite.

"I didn't know the dining hall served food like this," he said.

"They just started a few years ago," Ally explained. "After me and a few other people started campaigning for healthier, whole food and vegetarian options. And as for the special treatment, Joe's my first cousin once removed, and I helped him get the job here."

"Oh." Spencer took another bite.

"That portion's probably way too big for you. You don't have to eat it all. And remember, we're going to be doing some more activities after lunch."

"More alligators?" Spencer worked to open his milk carton.

"No, I have something else planned."

"What?"

"Why would I ruin the surprise?"

The first surprise turned out to be crab-walking. Although Ally was able to demonstrate it by pushing up onto her feet and one hand, and even taking a three-limbed step, her injury meant she couldn't do more than that. But she guided Spencer in a figure eight around two trees and encouraged him to keep his stomach up and not sag.

After that, she put out the yoga mat and made him stretch out, then roll over and over, from one end to the other and back again. Finally, she brought out the strips of cloth again and laid them lengthwise in a long path on the grass, red and green alternating.

"Jump from one colour to the next," she said. "Try to land with one foot on either side of the cloth and not touching it."

Spencer had jumped five or six times when she came out in front of him, laying down the strips she'd gathered up from behind.

"If I jump from here all the way back to the building, I don't think I'll have enough strength to get up even one step, let alone six flights of stairs," Spencer said.

Ally put down the last strip, then looked at him for a long moment with all the compassion of a drill sergeant, and finally said, "You're right, we don't want to overdo it on your first day. Just finish these last few little leaps."

Ally also relented enough to make him climb only three flights of stairs and take the elevator from there. When it was time for Spencer's afternoon break, however, she made him walk all the way down again. Going down, he flexed his hand several times, because it was starting to ache from the writing he'd done that day, which wasn't even half as much as he remembered doing back when he was older. He hoped nobody but Ally noticed, in case word got back to Hotch or Strauss and made them suddenly want to revisit the terms on which he could still come to work.

"Now we're going to skip," Ally announced as they left the building. "We'll head to that tree over there."

"Um, I can't," Spencer told her.

"What?"

"I can't skip."

"Why not? Didn't you ever learn?"

"I learned how, but I tried it the other day, and it just didn't work. Maybe this body's not coordinated enough yet, I don't know."

"Can you jump rope? Did you ever learn that?"

"Yeah, the basics, but nothing fancy."

"Then here." Ally dug a child-sized jump rope out of her bag and handed it over, but after watching Spencer jumping over it a full second after it hit the ground, three times in a row, she took the rope back. "Maybe you could practice that in your spare time."

"I thought this was my spare time!"

Ally sighed and said, "Let's march, and then we can play Run Past Ally Alligator again."

Spencer was sure she put the bottles farther away than the first time they'd played the alligator game. And they definitely stayed outside longer than in the morning, and she made him climb three flights of stairs again. Once he finally got back to his desk, it seemed like he barely had time to do any work at all before Ally popped up and laid her hand on his arm.

"Work time's over, Sprout."

"I'm almost finished with this," he said, still writing.

"Your eight hours are up."

But when Spencer continued to write, she plucked the pen out of his fingers.

"Just let me finish that word!"

"You can finish it to-morrow," she said. "It's not going anywhere. Unlike you. Now come on."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm supposed to hand you over to Agent Hotchner, so that's what I'm doing." She used her good hand to pull his chair away from his desk. Resigned, he got down and accompanied her up the steps to the mezzanine where Hotch's office was. The door was open, so Ally put a foot in. "Handing over Dr Reid, sir."

Hotch looked up from the reading material on his desk. "How'd it go, Johnson?"

"Lots of fresh air and physical activity, as agreed, sir, and he ate a good lunch. No problems to report, sir."

Hotch smiled slightly. "You can call me Hotch."

"I didn't want to presume, sir," Ally said, then amended it to, "Hotch."

"All right, then we'll see you to-morrow." Hotch gave her a smile. "And thanks."

They exchanged good-byes and Ally went out. Hotch said, "Take a seat, Spencer, I just need to finish this quickly."

Spencer sat down on the couch and waited, wondering if it was worth taking the book out of his backpack if he was just going to have to close it again two pages later. But after five minutes had gone by in which Hotch was still not showing any signs of finishing quickly, Spencer had a better idea.

"Um, Hotch, I left my jacket at my desk. I'm just going to go get it."

"Sure," Hotch answered without looking up. Spencer went quickly down the stairs and sat down at his desk again, ignoring Emily's questioning look, and picked up his pen.

"Spencer," she said in a low, warning voice, drawing his name out.

"I just need to finish this one word," he said.

But the one word led to the next, and the next after that, and before he knew it, he'd finished the entire report. Closing the file, Spencer started to shake out his cramped hand, but stopped when he realized Hotch was standing there, arms crossed, and giving him a disapproving glare.

Emily gave a fake cough that sounded suspiciously like "Busted!"

"I'll tell Johnson you're finishing half an hour early to-morrow," Hotch said.

"It was only five –" Spencer checked his watch – "fifteen minutes! And you had something you wanted to finish, too."

"You sound tired and irritable," Hotch said. "Get your stuff, let's go home, and you can go to bed early."

"I'm fine," Spencer protested. As they walked to the elevator, he pulled his jacket on and got his backpack settled on his shoulders. "I'm not irritable at all, and I'm only tired because I've been going up and down stairs and marching to Pretoria all day."

"Pretoria, hurrah!" Hotch said, almost singing, but not quite.

"You know that song, too?" Spencer had been wondering if Ally had made it up.

"When I was in first grade, my teacher made us stand up every so often and march in place at our desks, singing that song."

"Hotch, did you know that Pretoria is a real city in what was then the South African Republic, also called the Transvaal, but is now the Republic of South Africa? It was founded in 1855 by Marthinus Pretorius, and named for his father Andries Pretorius, who were descendents of the first Dutch settlers in that region."

"I didn't know it back then when I was marching there, but I do now," Hotch said.


	9. Chapter 9

If any of you think that this fic exists solely to bash JJ, please wait at least until you've read the next part after this, and preferably more beyond that, before you comment. Without giving away any spoilers, just let me say that I am not trying to bash JJ, instead, I am trying to show some of Spencer's emotional development. I might fail at this attempt, but that's what I'm trying to do.

* * *

11 October 2011

"Spencer, get up!"

Spencer started to turn over, but something wet landed on his face, rubbing his mouth, nose and cheeks, and he sat up with a squawk. "Hotch! What are you doing?"

"I've been trying to wake you up for half an hour." Hotch lowered the wet washcloth. "But now you really have to get out of bed, or we'll all be late. Get your pants and shoes on and let's go."

"Can't I have breakfast first?" Spencer sat up and put his legs over the side of the bed, then slid into the pants that Hotch was holding out for him. He was still wearing his shirt and sweater from the day before.

"Get your shoes on, and you can eat in the car."

"I'm starving, Hotch!" But Spencer got up and took the shoes that Hotch was thrusting at him.

"I'll bet you are. You fell asleep on the way home yesterday and missed supper. Shoes on?"

"Almost!"

"Then get your jacket, and come on. Jack! Let's go!"

"Hotch, I have to go to the bathroom!"

"Make it quick."

As soon as Spencer came out of the bathroom, Hotch thrust his jacket at him, then practically pushed him and Jack to the door. Once Spencer was buckled into the car seat, Hotch put a shoebox on his lap. "Breakfast."

Spencer looked down to see that the shoebox held a bowl of oatmeal with scrambled eggs on top, a spoon, and something else in a covered container. Once he figured out what it was, he asked, "Hotch, why is my orange juice in a Tupperware bowl?"

"Because it was the only thing that I could find that had a lid, so you wouldn't spill in the car," Hotch replied.

"How come I don't get to eat breakfast in the car?" Jack whined.

"Because you got up early enough to eat at the table, and Spencer didn't." Hotch said.

"Can I have breakfast in the car to-morrow?"

"No."

Spencer dug in. The egg and the oatmeal were cold, but he ate them anyway because he really was starving. He had to think back to remember the last time he'd been this hungry.

"It was my turn for the bed last night," Jack said. "But Dad put you there anyway."

"Sorry," Spencer mumbled around a spoonful of oatmeal. Apparently the novelty of the sleeping bag was wearing off. "You can have the bed from now on. I don't mind sleeping on the floor."

"We can still share, but I should get it two nights in a row, because you had it two nights in a row," Jack decided.

"Okay." Spencer took the lid off the Tupperware for a drink of juice. Just as he raised it to his mouth, Hotch slammed on the brakes, and the juice went partly into the box and partly down the front of his jacket.

Hotch said something very intense, but too quietly for Spencer to make out. Whatever it was, Spencer was sure he agreed with it. Jack said, "Dad, Spencer spilled his juice!"

Hotch took a very deep breath and didn't say anything.

When they had got Jack to school and were continuing on to the BAU, Hotch said, "Maybe a full day is too much for you, Spencer. Maybe we should cut it down a bit."

"No! Eight hours isn't long enough! I hardly got anything done," Spencer protested. "It was probably all that going up and down the stairs that made me so tired."

"Up and down the stairs? All six flights?"

"Only the first time. The other two times, I walked down, but only halfway up again. Ally let me take the elevator from the third floor."

"I'll tell Johnson that's definitely too much, especially if you're so exhausted you fall asleep before supper and can't get up in time for breakfast."

* * *

13 October 2011

On Thursday, just as Ally came over to Spencer's desk to tell him it was break time, Hotch came out of his office and put his hands on the guard rail of the mezzanine. "Conference room, everybody."

"Me, too, or do I have to take my break first?" Spencer asked.

"You, too. And you, Johnson."

Spencer raced eagerly over to the conference room and scrambled into one of the chairs. They'd be going out on a case to-day, the only question was where. Much as he enjoyed paperwork, he also liked getting out of the office and seeing evidence firsthand. But as soon as Garcia had announced they would be flying to Kearney, Nebraska, and Hotch had said his usual "Wheels up in thirty," Spencer suddenly remembered something.

"Hotch! My glasses! They're supposed to be ready to-day." He'd been looking forward to clear vision all week.

Hotch looked almost as stricken as though he'd forgotten Jack somewhere along the way, but then he said, "We'll just have to get them when we come back, Spencer."

"I guess I can wait a few more days." He'd gotten used to having everything in the distance be fuzzy, and to bringing printed text close to his face so he could read it. He told himself it wouldn't make that much difference if he got them this week or next.

To Spencer's surprise, Garcia joined them in the car on the way to the airstrip. She had a go-bag on wheels and three laptop cases strapped to it. When they arrived, Hotch took Spencer's car seat out of the car and carried it up into the cabin as well, placing it on one of the backwards-facing plane seats. Then he went back down the steps for his and Spencer's go-bags, and came back on board with Morgan, Rossi, JJ and Emily trailing behind.

"Wow, private jet," Ally said, sitting down across from Spencer. "The arson unit always has to fly commercial, in the economy section. Even Agent Kalvesmaki, and he's six foot six."

"That's no fun," Spencer said. He'd flown commercial several times, too, and even though he was five inches shorter – at his usual adult height – than Agent Kalvismaki, it was still uncomfortable with his long legs and people in front of him who insisted on reclining their seats the entire way.

"When I get back there, I'm going to get everybody in my team together and we're going to commandeer this jet for our next case."

"You'd have to get through Hotch first." Spencer smiled a little at the idea.

"Oh, I could take you hostage, then he'd surrender immediately," Ally said.

"You could take any member of my team hostage and he'd surrender," Spencer said. It was a good, warm thing to know. "But he'd try to get you to take him instead."

"I wouldn't take him. I might take Morgan."

In the seat behind Ally, Garcia stood up and turned around, staring down at her. "Take my chocolate cupcake where?"

"Take him hostage when me and the arson unit try to commandeer this jet for our own use," Ally said without a hint of teasing.

"You'd have to get through me first," Garcia announced, and Spencer could imagine Morgan's smirk at her gallantry. Then the captain came on the intercom and told them all to sit down and buckle up, and Garcia disappeared from view.

Ally glanced over to Spencer and mouthed "chocolate cupcake?"

Spencer just grinned. Back at the BAU, everybody but him and Emily were in their various offices most of the time, and he'd missed being in close quarters on the jet with the team.

But the team split up again when they landed at Kearney Regional Airport. Garcia got into the taxi with Spencer and Ally, and when they got to the hotel, she grabbed one of the rooms adjacent to theirs. "So, my little half-pint hero, I'll have my travelling lair set up in here in a jiffy, and then we can get to work."

"It's way past Spencer's lunchtime, and he hasn't had his fresh air and activity for the day," Ally said. "Spencer, we'll wait in the lobby for the taxi."

"Taxi?" Garcia asked. "Why do you need a taxi? There's food right here in this hotel."

"You might call it food," Ally said, and shooed Spencer down the hall. They ended up in a café that offered vegetarian food, and Ally didn't bother with the children's part of the menu, or even asking Spencer what he wanted. She simply ordered six veggie wraps, asking that four of them be put in doggie bags.

"That's not enough for the rest of the team," Spencer commented.

"That's because that will be our supper and breakfast," Ally replied.

The café was nowhere near any parks, playgrounds, or even lawn, so after getting another taxi back to the hotel, Ally had Spencer march in place in their room, practice with the jump rope and alternate both with jumping on the bed. "Come on, higher, higher!"

When he was finished, Ally also suggested, "This hotel's got a pool. After supper we could go swimming."

"I don't have a swimming suit," Spencer said. He wondered if his smaller body would be able to swim or if it would be like skipping. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out – skipping didn't carry the same risk of drowning that not being able to swim did.

"We can go out and buy one."

"I'd better get some work done. They're not going to let me go out in the field anymore if all I do is march to Pretoria and jump on the bed when I get there."

Ally walked him to Garcia's door and knocked. After a moment, Garcia answered, talking on her headset, and waved Spencer in. "Let's put you to work, Junior Genius."

* * *

They were still eating supper when Ally's phone rang. She pulled it out and looked at it, her face turning from annoyance to surprise, then excused herself and went into the bathroom. After she'd spoken for a moment, too quietly for Spencer to make out words, he clearly heard her exclaim, "Well, that just sucks!"

Then her voice went quiet again. Spencer finished eating, then looked over at the things on the bed which Ally had set aside so they could use the table. There were a few books about learning Arabic, and a notebook where Ally had been practicing writing both English and Arabic with her left hand. The other thing was a board game called Agricola, which he'd never heard of, and after reading the back of the box, Spencer opened it up and pulled out the booklet of rules. He'd just read to the end of the last page when Ally came out again, falling unhappily into her chair again and leaning her head on her left hand for a moment.

Quite abruptly, she asked, "How did you get de-aged? Hotch said something about you falling into some kind of machine?"

"Yeah, some kind of machine, but I never got a good look at it, and I don't know how it works. SHIELD wouldn't let me examine it."

"Where is it? Is it still functioning?"

"It's in Ohio, but as for still functioning, I don't know. You'd have to ask SHIELD; they might have taken it apart. But, Ally ... de-aging isn't something you want to do. I've got the mind of a twenty-nine-year-old in a four-year-old body. I've got a birthday coming up soon and I don't know if I should celebrate turning thirty, or turning five."

Looking out of the window, Ally said, "My brother Gabriel has just been diagnosed with Stage 4 prostrate cancer."

"Oh," Spencer replied. "I'm sorry."

"If I could get him to that machine, would he still have cancer once he was de-aged?"

"No," Spencer replied firmly, remembering his missing scars. "But, uh, how old is he now?"

"He's just turned thirty six," Ally replied. "He's got a wife, and three kids under the age of ten."

"The machine was designed to de-age people twenty five years," Spencer explained. "Your brother would come out as an eleven-year-old."

"Oh, G-d!" Ally cried, and slammed her good fist into the table so hard that her dinner jumped. "Couldn't they adjust it, make it turn him back just eight or ten years? He'd have time to watch his kids grow up! Even if they only turned him back five years, or even two, he'd have time to catch the cancer when it first starts!"

"I'm sorry," Spencer said again, but his mind was whirring. Surely somebody at SHIELD had thought of the possibility of "curing" cancer, or at least having a second chance to diagnose it, or other medical disorders, earlier in patients. It must have been why they'd taken Dr Sakenfeld out of police custody and transported him back to the research facility. Maybe it was why Dr Sakenfeld had invented the machine in the first place. If SHIELD had any brains – and he was sure somebody there did, even if they weren't at the top levels – they wouldn't dismantle the machine at all, they'd continue to research it.

"You can try to get in touch with SHIELD," he suggested. "Um, let me call Hotch, he's got a contact number for SHIELD, as far as I know."

Spencer dug his phone out of his pocket and dialled, and Hotch picked up almost immediately. "Spencer? Shouldn't you be in bed already?"

"I've still got thirty five minutes," Spencer protested. "Hotch, have you got a number for Dr Kapoor at SHIELD? Can you send it to me?"

"Are you all right?" Hotch suddenly sounded worried.

"No, I'm fine, everything is fine, Hotch. It's for Ally. Her brother's just been diagnosed with cancer, and she was asking about the de-aging machine."

"Oh." Hotch exhaled, then said, "Yeah. I'll send the number to Johnson's phone. Hey, Rossi's coming over to give Johnson the evening off, he should be there soon. I'll say good night now, Spencer."

"Thanks, Hotch. Good night."

When the number came, Ally dialed immediately, but from what Spencer could hear, it sounded like a recorded message. Frowning, she said, "I'll try again to-morrow. And now, Sprout, it's time to brush your teeth and get your pyjamas on."

"I've still got half an hour."

"Do it anyway, and then you can read before you go to sleep."

"If you want a distraction, we could play Agricola. I've read the rules, I know how it works."

Ally sighed deeply. "Not to-night, Sprout, not to-night. As soon as my replacement gets here, I'm going running."

* * *

16-17 October 2011

The team solved the case and arrested the Unsub on Sunday, and Spencer and Ally came back from lunch to find it was all over. Spencer didn't mind. He preferred finding the clues and fitting them in to solve the puzzle, he didn't have to be the one to kick down doors and cuff the Unsub.

As they packed, he asked Ally if she'd been able to get in touch with the SHIELD doctor, because she hadn't mentioned it since that first night, but she tersely said no, and went visibly back to compartmentalizing her worries. Spencer's child-like emotions urged him to give her a hug to make her feel better, and after a moment, he gave in, wrapping his arms around her waist. She hugged back, but it obviously felt weird to both of them, because they both let go soon after.

The next morning, JJ called Hotch to ask if he had time to pick her up, because her car would not start and Will was already at work. Spencer gave her a civil hello when she got in the car, and she answered in the same tone of voice, then directed the rest of her conversation to Hotch. On the way back home, it was the same, until they pulled up outside her house and Spencer urgently realized something.

"JJ, um, can I use your bathroom quickly?"

"Yeah, come on in. Hotch?"

"I'll wait out here, thanks."

Spencer leaped out of the car and ran inside, then up the stairs to their bathroom. The toilet and sink area did not have an outside window, and was divided from the shower, which did. When the light suddenly went out, Spencer was plunged into absolute blackness. He screamed inarticulately at first, fumbling at his zipper, then found words. "Turn it back on!" But the light didn't come back on. Starting to panic, he screamed again, banging into the sink as he fought to get out, to find the door, to get back into the light. When he finally did, he saw JJ's son standing with his arm extended and his hand on the light switch.

"Henry!" Spencer yelled, and Henry turned instinctively and ran. Spencer ran after him, still suffering the after-effects of the terror, and angry now as well.

"What's going on?" JJ called up the stairs, and Spencer reached out, meaning to grab Henry. But though his hand never made contact, Henry suddenly tumbled down the stairs anyway, and let out a high screech of pain before he'd even finished falling.

"Henry!" JJ shouted, picking him up. "Are you hurt?"

Spencer came down a few steps to see if Henry was all right, but the younger boy was curled over his arm and sobbing in agony.

"Henry?" Will came running in from the kitchen, too. "What happened? Did he fall down the stairs?"

"My arm, my arm!" Henry cried. JJ felt carefully along it, and he screamed even more.

"Oh, G-d, Will, I think it's broken," JJ said, but then she looked up at Spencer. "Why did you do that? Why did you push him? You could have broken his neck!"

"No!" Spencer shouted. Fear and shock and now the unjust accusations were making him cry as well. "I didn't push him!"

"You had your hand out, Spencer!" JJ shouted back, enraged. "I saw you! He's younger and smaller than you, and you deliberately pushed him down the stairs!"

"I didn't – I didn't push him!"

JJ gathered Henry up and in the coldest, most controlled voice that Spencer had ever heard, she said, "Will, take Spencer outside before I do something I regret."

As she carried Henry away, Will looked up at Spencer. "Come on, kiddo."

Slowly, reluctantly, Spencer made his way down the steps, sobbing quietly. Will didn't say anything else, just opened the front door, and Spencer went out. When Spencer realized that Will was coming with him to talk to Hotch, he felt a sudden burst of panic that Hotch would believe the adult instead of him, especially if Will got there first. He ran to the gate and slipped through, then raced over to the car and pulled on the door handle.

"Hotch, I didn't push him, I swear I didn't!"

"What?" Hotch looked from him to Will, then got out of the car. "What happened?"

"Henry fell down the stairs and we think his arm is broken," Will explained. "I didn't see it myself, but JJ says Spencer pushed Henry."

"I didn't!" Spencer wailed. He held out his arms to Hotch, and the man lifted him up into a hug. "I'd never hurt Henry! I reached out – but I didn't push him!"

"Okay, buddy," Hotch said.

"Will!" JJ called from the door. Will turned towards her, and Spencer hid his face in Hotch's shoulder.

"We're taking Henry to the emergency room," Will explained.

"Keep me posted, and tell me if you need anything," Hotch said. Will nodded, and went back towards his family. Hotch opened the passenger door and put Spencer in the car seat. "Let's get you home, buddy."

Spencer forced himself to stop crying on the way home, though he still felt heartsick, and finally he managed to say, "Hotch," without his voice breaking.

"Yes?"

"I was in the bathroom and Henry turned the light out on me. I was so scared, I screamed, and when I got out, I screamed at him and he ran away. I wanted to grab him, to tell him not to turn the lights out on me like that, but he must have slipped, and that's how he fell down the stairs. I didn't push him, I swear!"

"I believe you, Spencer. Thank you for telling me what happened."

"I feel so bad that he's hurt. JJ thought I did it deliberately, and it was my fault, but it was an accident."

"I know. It's okay."

Spencer was quiet for a moment, looking out of the window, feeling his chest ache so bad it encompassed his entire body. It began to rain, and he sadly watched the drops descend.

"Um, Hotch? I left my jacket at JJ's."

"Well, I'll bet she'll bring it with her to-morrow."

What if she didn't, Spencer wondered silently. What if she felt about him now the way he'd felt about her when he'd found out she had lied? Hurt, betrayed, no longer trusting him, not wanting to be anywhere near him, and so sick at heart she thought she might vomit from the ache …

He tried to call out to Hotch, but only managed a weak "haw" before throwing up all down his front.


	10. Chapter 10

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please review!

* * *

15-17 October 2011

When they got home, Hotch sent Spencer into the bathroom while he greeted Jack. Spencer leaned miserably against the toilet, not sure if he were going to throw up again. Eventually, Hotch came in and placed a little bundle of clothing on the side of the sink, then helped Spencer undress. Then he wet a washcloth and cleaned Spencer's face and neck and hands before helping him put on his pyjamas.

"You've got a fever. Come on, let's get you into bed, and I'll give you some ibuprofen."

Spencer moved slowly and miserably to Jack's bed and got in. Hotch gave him some children's liquid ibuprofen and had him wash it down with a few swallows of water.

"I'm just putting this here," Hotch said, setting the glass on the nightsttand. "And I'll be right back with a bucket in case you have to throw up again."

"Uh huh," Spencer said, and laid his aching head on the cool pillow. He woke up once in the night to throw up, but Hotch was there, giving him more medicine and water, and cleaning everything up. Then it was morning, and Hotch was there again. After he'd given Spencer another dose of medicine, he said, "Can I leave you alone for a few minutes while I take Jack to school?"

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Don't get out of bed for anything except going to the bathroom, all right?"

"Uh huh."

Hotch went out, and Spencer shut his eyes, but couldn't fall asleep again immediately. Jack had come in quickly and given Spencer one of his stuffed animals, and now he pulled it to his chest, burying his chin in the soft fur. He didn't even feel well enough to read, so he just lay there, thinking disjointed thoughts until Hotch came back.

"Okay, buddy?" Hotch asked.

"'M going to the bathroom now," Spencer murmured.

"You could have gone while I was out."

"Didn't have to go then."

When Spencer came back, Hotch was talking on his phone, but Spencer didn't bother to listen, just shuffled back into the bedroom and got back into bed. Hotch hung up after a few minutes, then came in.

"I thought I'd better inform SHIELD, in case this has something to do with your de-aging. Dr Kapoor finally called me back and said he's going to come over and have a look at you. But I also spoke to Johnson and she said she's sick, too, so it could just be something that you two picked up in Nebraska."

Spencer felt like he should say something, but the only thing he could think of was, "Uh."

"Do you want a book?"

"Huh unh."

"Have another drink, and then see if you can sleep."

Obediently, Spencer took a swallow, then cuddled up again with the teddy bear and closed his eyes. The morning passed, and he dozed on and off, trying to remember to sip a little water whenever he was awake. Every so often, he could hear Hotch talking quietly on his phone in the living room. And then the doorbell rang, and Dr Kapoor and another agent from SHIELD came into the bedroom.

"Sakenfeld's being remarkably uncooperative, especially considering he's avoided going to prison so far, and is allowed to work on his own rogue project again. But he just wants to sit there sulking all day," Dr Kapoor was saying. "So the re-aging project is still in the construction phase and it's going to take a while before we can even start tests, let alone get Dr Reid back to normal."

"Thank you for the update," Hotch said.

"And speaking of getting you back to normal, Dr Reid, can you describe your symptoms?" Dr Kapoor put his bag on the bed next to Spencer's leg and opened it up, then pulled out a thermometer.

"Fever, vomiting, aches and pains, general malaise," Spencer muttered as the doctor poked the thermometer into his ear.

"Yup." Dr Kapoor checked the temperature, then put the thermometer away. After listening to Spencer's heart and lungs and measuring his blood pressure, he got out a small kit and announced, "I don't think this is related to the de-aging. It's probably a virus, but I'm just going to take a blood sample and run it right over to the lab just to be sure."

"What lab?" Spencer asked, wondering vaguely how he'd missed Hotch living next to a laboratory all this time.

"The rolling lab we brought with us," Dr Kapoor replied. "You can look out the window if you want to see it, but from the outside, it's disguised as a regular camper van. Sometimes it's safer to travel incognito."

He inserted the needle into the crook of Spencer's elbow, and Spencer gritted his teeth not to cry out as the blood flowed up the syringe. The doctor removed the needle and stuck a bandaid over the spot, then secured the syringe back in the kit. "I'll be right back."

Spencer took another drink of water and promptly threw up again, retching unhappily over the bucket until he suddenly had to run to the bathroom as well. When Dr Kapoor returned, he confirmed Spencer's own diagnosis. "Rotavirus. Completely ordinary, nothing to worry about. Lots of rest and liquids, and wash your hands like you've got OCD. But if either of you notice anything else, anything weird, I mean, don't hesitate to call. Oh, but if you want to get through to me directly, you now have to give the password."

"Password?" Hotch asked.

"Ever since word got out about the de-aging, we've had everybody in SHIELD and half the FBI asking about it. You would not believe how many people want to jump into that machine," the doctor said. "My soon-to-be ex-wife even offered all our money and our house to my boss for the chance to be twenty nine again. If everybody did that, I'd be willing to bet we could more than double our research budget, but the pencil-pushing higher-ups said no. Not even a 'not yet,' just a plain no."

"I should think that liability played a large role in that decision," Hotch said.

"Yeah, but what I could do with a bigger budget." Dr Kapoor looked dreamy for a moment, the brought himself back to the present. "Sorry, you were asking about the password to get through to me. Just call up SHIELD like you did to-day, say the project name, Project Mustardseed, and the word is 'pointillism.'"

"Pointillism?" Hotch queried.

"I didn't pick it," Dr Kapoor defended himself. "And whoever did probably just opened a dictionary and grabbed the first word they saw that wouldn't come up in ordinary conversation."

"Unless you're an artist," Spencer murmured, but he didn't feel up to defining the term. If Hotch were interested, he could look it up himself.

"And now, sir, may I ask you both to sign these non-disclosure agreements," the other agent said. "If you so much as even mention the existence of the project name or the password, let alone betray it to anybody outside this room, or the SHIELD contact number, SHIELD can and will take you into custody before prosecution, and the penalty will be severe."

"We should have done this before, while you were at our research facility, but I guess those of us who knew what was going on were just too excited about the discovery to think of it. I know I was." Dr Kapoor smiled briefly. "And of course, SHIELD's delightful powers-that-be didn't realize what we had until it was way too late. But if you both work for the FBI, I guess you're intimately acquainted with how bureaucracy works, aren't you?"

He didn't wait for Hotch or Spencer to agree, simply went on. "Now we're researching as fast as our little electron microscopes can go, while they're spreading disinformation about aliens and trying to gag everybody who knows the truth."

"What about the people we've already spoken to?" Hotch asked. "I did have to inform my superiors about Dr Reid's condition."

Not to mention that the team also knew, and Will, too, along with the two policemen that had been with them, and Hotch and Spencer had talked to Ally, and Hotch had also said a few words to Lars Henriksen. Spencer felt a flash of concern for Henriksen's chickenpox-afflicted daughter.

"As long as you didn't mention the project name or the password, and never do, they'll be fine, and you'll remain at liberty," the other agent said. "Sign here, Agent Hotchner."

He held up a clipboard and indicated a space on the paper it held. Hotch took the board and read through the document, taking his time, then borrowed the agent's pen and finally signed. The agent shuffled the papers, clipped them back into place, and offered the board to Spencer. "Dr Reid."

Spencer went through the text as well, but the agent was right, there wasn't any mention of penalties for simply talking about the de-aging process; it was all about the password and the project name. He was reminded of the old saying of shutting the barn door weeks or even months after the horse had gone, but he just couldn't muster enough energy to care what SHIELD did, or when. With a shaking hand, he signed his name, then laid down in the bed again and closed his eyes.

* * *

21 October 2011

It took a few days before Spencer was well enough to go to work again. Neither Hotch nor Jack had come down with the rotavirus, and JJ's car had also been repaired in the meantime, so the only problem was Spencer's lack of jacket, which neither of them realized until they were ready to go out the door. Hotch suggested that Spencer wear his official FBI jacket, even though it was much too big, but it was the only alternative they had.

"You look like you're wearing a cloak, just like on Sword-Swinging Cats when they go out in the rain!" Jack said when he saw him. "Except their cloaks don't have letters on the back."

"Well, I'm not a Sword-Swinging Cat," Spencer replied. "So I get letters."

It was also raining when they went out, and Spencer flipped the hood up, but it came down to his chin in front. He stopped, wanting to fold it back so he could see, but Hotch urged him along, so he pushed it back down again. By the time they got in the car, his hair was very wet, and it got even more wet on the way from the car to the BAU.

At least JJ was in the bullpen when they arrived. Spencer took a step in her direction, wanting to ask about his jacket, but then he remembered Henry, and felt almost sick all over again. How bad was Henry hurt, anyway, and was she still going to blame him? Had she let herself calm down over the past few days so that she could see reason again? Or was she going to hold a grudge against him for hurting her, even indirectly?

For the first time, Spencer realized what it must have been like for JJ to have to deal with him after the revelation of Emily actually being alive. He didn't think JJ had thrown up because of that gut-wrenching feeling of guilt, and ninety-five percent of the reason he himself had done so was due to the rotavirus, but the other five percent, that was all him. Still, it must have been torment for her to have lived so long with that feeling, to be reminded of it every time she'd looked at him, just as he felt bad now simply from seeing her.

"JJ," he said hesitantly. "I'm really sorry about Henry. How is he, is he going to be okay?"

JJ looked almost as wary about talking to him as he felt about her, but she said, "He'll be fine in a few weeks. The doctor said it was a greenstick fracture, and he's got a cast, but it should heal without complications."

"That's good," Spencer said. "I apologize. I didn't push him, but I shouted at him and chased him down the stairs, and I'm so, so sorry."

"Thank you, Spencer," JJ said. She sounded more formal than friendly. Spencer wondered if she'd been afraid that he'd lash out at her again, the way he'd feared she'd lash out at him. But she hadn't, perhaps because a few days had gone by since the injury and her pain and anger had faded. He checked his own negative feelings, and found that they had receded as well. They weren't completely gone, but they definitely weren't as strong anymore. He'd been so focused on other things that he hadn't had any time or energy to think much lately about feeling hurt and betrayed. His good experiences with Hotch had definitely helped his attitude, and though he hadn't had much interaction with Emily aside from work, that had all been positive as well. Maybe, he considered, he could get over the whole thing sooner rather than later. Maybe it was time to give JJ a chance.

He realized there'd been an awkward silence while he'd stood there thinking, and that JJ was staring curiously at him, wondering what else he might want, or perhaps worrying what else he might say. Taking a deep breath for courage, Spencer said, "JJ, uh, I accept your apology for lying to me about what happened with Emily, and I'm willing to try to trust you again."

JJ's face turned utterly radiant at his words and she exclaimed, "Thank you, Spence! Oh, I'm so happy. Can I give you a hug?"

Feeling the tension between them dissipate almost instantly, Spencer smiled, too, and held out his arms. JJ picked him up and gave him a happy squeeze, whirling him around at the same time. "I was afraid you'd never forgive me, and I felt so bad, you have no idea."

"Actually, I do," he replied, hugging her back. It was almost like hugging his mother, except JJ wasn't as tall. And it was strange, he thought, how much relief came from forgiving, as much as from being forgiven. Strange, but strange in a good way.

"I'm sorry I thought you pushed Henry," JJ went on, putting him down again. "I should have known you'd never do anything to hurt him – but I guess I was so shocked by him being hurt, combined with your attitude towards me this past month. It's just a reason, not an excuse, though. I'm really sorry I was so harsh."

"That's all right, JJ," Spencer said. "I'm sure it looked pretty bad from your point of view. Actually, many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view."

"That sounds like a quote from a film," JJ said, grinning as she reached out to ruffle his hair, but before Spencer could identify which one, she suddenly exclaimed, "Why's your hair all wet, Spence? Didn't you wear a coat to-day?"

"I left my jacket at your house on Monday, so I put on my FBI jacket, but the hood covered my entire face," he explained. "I thought it was better if I got wet than if I got run over in the parking lot because I couldn't see where I was going."

"You left your jacket at our house? I didn't see it, Spencer, or I would have brought it over."

"I left it in the bathroom upstairs." He'd completely forgotten the thing when he'd run out in panic.

"Maybe Will found it. I'll call him." She reached for her phone, and Spencer caught sight of Ally out of the corner of his eye. He went over to her.

"Hi, how are you feeling?"

"Ten pounds lighter, and good to go," she replied. "You?"

"Much better, thanks, but Hotch and I are going to leave early to-day to pick up my new glasses, so I won't need an afternoon break."

"Well, damn. After spending all week at home, I was really looking forward to a nice long day at the office." She almost smiled, which made Spencer feel bad for what he was about to say next.

"By the way, Hotch and I talked to that doctor from SHIELD while I was sick, but they're not letting anybody else go through the de-aging machine."

"Oh." Ally hid her emotions behind a blank face. "Thank you for trying."

"I'm really sorry about your brother."

"Thank you."

JJ came over. "Ally. I heard you were sick, too. Are you feeling better?"

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't," Ally replied.

"Spence, I talked to Will and he said he hung your jacket up next to Henry's, and I guess we both just forgot about it. I'm sorry. How about we bring it over to-night?"

"That would be good, thanks." Spencer turned to Ally. "I left my jacket at JJ's on Monday, so I guess we can't go outside to-day for my breaks."

"I was going to ask Hotch to get you some boots and an umbrella for rainy days," Ally said, "but you can practice jumping rope in the stairwell, and we can do some stair laps, too." She paused, then added, "Three or four flights, not all six."

She walked away towards her desk, and JJ said, "Ooh, stair laps, that'll build your leg muscles and define your gluteus maximus."

"My body is four years old, and I don't need my glutei maximi defined," Spencer announced, then explained, "I'm using the plural form, because everybody in the world has two buttocks, not just one, and it's simply illogical to talk about defining a singular gluteus maximus."

"Okay." JJ laughed, but then suddenly she said, "Hey, it's your birthday soon, isn't it?"

"Next Friday."

"What kind of present can we get you?" Still in a teasing mood, she suggested, "Legos?"

Spencer gave her a mock glare and walked away to his desk. "Actually, I just want to work."

* * *

24 - 28 October 2011

The weekend passed without incident, but on Monday, they flew to Oregon to investigate a serial killer whose dumping grounds had been found in the woods. Their hotel had a swimming pool along with an indoor gym which included a treadmill and yoga mats, and Ally had brought along an outdoor tablecloth with a hopscotch pattern drawn on the back. During Spencer's break, she laid the cloth down on one of the yoga mats, and told Spencer to do the hopping first on his right leg and then on his left. He wasn't very good at hopping solely on his left leg, and sometimes lost his balance when he leaned over to pick up the jar lid they were using as a marker. But Ally kept encouraging him to try. He also practiced jumping rope, and tried to skip occasionally, too, which was still not successful.

After making sure he now had a swimming suit, Ally also introduced a new game she called Ping Pong Pals in the Pool. She had bought some ping pong balls in different colours and had drawn faces on them, to be the pals. Then she threw them into the water, scattering them around the shallow end of the pool, and Spencer had to swim around and gather them all up. His swimming was acceptable – he got from pal A to pal B and back to Ally again – but he could tell his arms and legs weren't completely coordinated. Still, it was fun.

Ally also made him crabwalk up and down the corridor outside their room, and Spencer was doing exactly that after lunch on Thursday when he became aware of two people coming towards him. He lifted his head and recognized Emily on crutches, her right ankle in a boot-like splint, and Rossi at her side.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, getting to his feet.

"I was chasing after the Unsub and stepped in a rabbit hole or something," Emily said. "Dislocated my ankle and sprained it pretty badly, too."

"You're lucky you didn't break anything," Spencer said.

"Yeah, that's what they told me at the hospital." Emily stopped at her door. "I'll still be limited for a while, though. So on our next case, you and Garcia can just scoot over and make room for me in the Batcave, too."

"Did you at least get the Unsub?" Ally asked.

"Not me, obviously, but Hotch and Morgan did. We'll be home in time for your birthday, Reid."

Ally looked curiously at him. "When's your birthday?"

"To-morrow," he said. "But you don't have to get me anything."

"Wait, so you don't want that monogrammed jump rope I just bought?" she asked. Rossi and Emily both laughed, but Spencer actually wondered for a moment if she were serious.

"You guys better get packed up, we'll be heading to the airport soon," Rossi said. He opened the door to Emily's room and held it as she limped in.

"So, are you doing anything for your birthday?" Ally asked as they went into their own room.

"No," Spencer said. "I mean, I never plan anything because we never know when we'll have to travel. If we're in the office, sometimes Garcia brings cupcakes." Spencer pulled his go-bag out of the closet and unzipped the opening. "I usually just buy myself a book or two."

"Yeah, I don't really celebrate my birthday, either. But if I've got a free weekend in July, I'll buy a cake and some ice cream and invite my brothers and their families to a picnic in the park."

"You have other brothers besides Gabriel?"

"One other." She did not elaborate. "Don't forget your toothbrush."

They got to the plane first. Emily came on board last, heading for the couch where she could put her leg up. As Spencer watched her maneuver her crutches down the narrow aisle, he was reminded of how it had been when he'd been shot in the leg and had managed to finagle his way on board for one mission before Hotch had found out about his "second opinion" and had grounded him. Working with Garcia in Quantico hadn't been all bad, but of course he'd felt relieved when he was allowed to fly again.

Shortly after they'd taken off, Hotch got a phone call, then came back and stood in the aisle next to Spencer's seat.

"I just spoke to Jessica," he said. "Jack's come down with chickenpox. It seems to be going around his school."

"Oh, no," Spencer said. "Have you had chickenpox, Hotch? Because he'll be contagious for at least five days and up to seven."

"I've had it, yes. But I know you haven't. Do you want come home with me and run the risk, or would you rather go stay with another member of the team?"

"I really don't want to get chickenpox," Spencer said. "Can't Jack go stay with Jessica?"

"No, our arrangement when Jack is sick is that she comes over during the day, and I leave a little early whenever possible so that I can take care of Jack at night," Hotch explained.

Spencer frowned. It had been bad enough staying home with the rotavirus, especially when he'd been just well enough to be bored in between naps, but still too sick to work. But then he considered who else he could stay with. Morgan and Rossi both had dogs, and though Garcia was nice, he didn't want to live with Kevin, and now that Emily was on crutches, that would be awkward. The only person left was JJ, and as though hearing his thoughts, she leaned out into the aisle to catch his eye.

"You could stay with us, Spence," she invited.

He'd promised he'd try to start trusting her again, and he knew this would be the perfect opportunity, but he still hesitated. "What if Henry only remembers me as the boy who chased him down the stairs so that he broke his arm?"

"Kids forgive and forget so easily at that age. If he mentions it, just apologise, and you should be fine. Plus you know how much he adores Uncle Spencer."

"Yes, but I'm not Uncle Spencer anymore. I don't have the fine motor control to do any of my magic tricks anymore." On occasion, he tried to walk a coin across his knuckles, but was having less success with it than with skipping. "And what about Will?"

"I'm sure Will won't mind at all, but I can call him if it will make you feel better."

Spencer remembered Will's stare, and his questioning glances. "Yeah, it would make me feel better. And if he's not really happy with the idea, then I could ask Emily. I could volunteer to be her legs."

"I think she's staying at Rossi's for a few days. I'll ask Will." JJ pulled out her phone immediately and left a message for her partner to call her back. Shortly before landing, when Spencer was starting to nod off, she came back to him and announced, "I just spoke to Will and he says, the more the merrier."

Spencer blinked tiredly up at her, taking a moment to remember what she was talking about. "Oh. Yeah, okay, thanks."

"So I'll get the car seat from Hotch and you can ride home with me."


	11. Chapter 11

In answer to **Guest 1**: Thank you for reading and replying! Yes, that was what I was trying to do, have Spencer realise what it feels like from the other side. I'm glad you think this story is getting cute, and yes, Spencer will spend time with Emily later. The "forgiveness" part of the story is done now, and although there might be other kinds of angst later on, I think there will also be an increase in cuteness.

**Guest 2**: I can't believe I didn't think of JJ apologizing to Spencer for jumping to conclusions, but thank you for pointing it out. I've gone back and written in her apology – thank you for helping me make the story better.

And a belated answer to **Jemma** from chapter 7: No, sorry, Mudgie's reaction won't lead to anything, I'm afraid. I just thought it would be an interesting detail. And about the Scrabble game putting Emily in danger – I'm not the first person who've thought of it. I've read other stories where it was mentioned. And yeah, that part about the ice cream was taken from real life, so I'm glad it was relatable to you, too. Thank you so much for your detailed comment, it made my heart soar!

* * *

28 October 2011

Athough it wasn't quite dark yet when they landed, Spencer was still on Oregon time, and although he remembered getting into JJ's car, the next thing he knew, Henry was looming over him, poking him in the cheek.

When he saw that Spencer was looking at him, Henry demanded,"What's your name?"

"Hello, my name's Spencer," he replied, yawning and sitting up. He must have fallen asleep in the car yet again – his younger body demanded so much sleep! Now he was in a sleeping bag on the floor of Henry's room. "What's your name?"

"I'm Henry."

"Hi, Henry, nice to meet you." Spencer looked at the cast on Henry's right arm and felt a sickening pang of guilt. Henry saw him looking and waved it proudly.

"My arm got broke," he announced, not seeming to remember that Spencer had been involved.

"I'll bet that hurt," Spencer remarked, feeling relieved, "but the cast will keep it safe until it heals."

"Uh huh," Henry replied.

"Henry, are you getting dressed?" Will appeared in the doorway. "Hey, good morning and happy birthday, Spencer."

"Oh." He'd forgotten. "Thanks, Will. Um, have you seen my glasses?"

"I think JJ put them over here," Will said, checking the nightstand beside the bed. He found the glasses and handed them to Spencer.

"Thanks."

"My dad," Henry said, as though warning Spencer off.

"It's Spencer's birthday to-day," Will said. "Tell him happy birthday, Henry."

"Happy birfday, Spencer!"

"Now get dressed," Will said, indicating a set of clothes laid out neatly on the floor. "Then you can have breakfast."

"I'd better get dressed, too." Spencer got up and saw that JJ had changed him into his pyjamas the night before, instead of simply taking his jeans off the way Hotch always did. He looked around and found his go-bag, then rooted through it for a set of clothes that weren't too dirty even though they'd been already worn at least once that week. With his father's help, Henry got dressed, too, and when they went downstairs, Spencer noticed that Will kept hold of Henry's good arm.

Spencer made a quick trip to the bathroom, and also saw that there was now a nightlight that hadn't been there before, plugged into the socket over the sink. He felt both grateful and slightly ashamed as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Happy birthday, Spence!" JJ exclaimed as soon as she saw him. "I made chocolate-chip pancakes to celebrate!"

"Pancakes, yummy!" Henry cried, sitting down at the table.

"Thank you, JJ," Spencer said, and sat down as well. JJ took the platter out of the oven where it had been keeping warm and brought it to the table. As she started to place pancakes on Spencer's plate, Henry reached over to grab them. "My pancakes!"

"Hey, Henry, it's Spencer's birthday, not yours. The birthday boy gets the pancakes first," Will explained, trying to pry the food out of Henry's fist.

"No, that's okay," Spencer said, seeing how Henry had mangled his breakfast.

"Sorry, Spencer," JJ said, and put new ones on his plate. "Henry, that was not nice. Now say sorry to Spencer."

"Sorry, Spencer," Henry mumbled, then stuffed a pancake into his mouth. "Yum!"

"You can at least have the syrup first," Will said, holding Henry's hand away from the jug as Spencer poured. Then Will took the jug and poured a smaller amount onto Henry's plate.

"Oh, delicious!" Spencer took another bite. "I've never had chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast on my birthday before."

"It's a tradition in my family," JJ said, obviously pleased that he liked them, then smiling over at her partner.

"When my birfday?" Henry asked.

"November twelfth," Will told him. "That's fifteen more days."

"When your birfday, mommy?"

"July twenty second, sweetie," JJ said.

"When Daddy birfday?"

"February sixth," Will said. "But don't worry, we'll have chocolate chip pancakes on your birthday."

Once breakfast was over, and Will had started to wash up, JJ said, "Hey, Spence, I can throw your stuff in the wash if you want to get it out of your go-bag for me."

"Sure," Spencer replied, and went upstairs. JJ followed with a laundry basket, and Henry came to see what they were doing. When he spied Spencer's underwear, Henry said, "That mine!"

"No, Henry, this is Spencer's. Yours are in the drawer over there," JJ explained patiently.

"No, that mine!" Henry insisted. He lifted up a pair and pointed to the picture on the backside. "My Cats!"

"It looks the same, sweetie, but Spencer's are bigger." JJ retrieved the underpants and put them back in the basket. "Come here, look in the drawer. Your underwear is still here, see?"

"Maybe I should get another brand," Spencer suggested. He hadn't been in favour of the Sword Swinging Cats underwear from the start, but he'd worn them because there hadn't been any choice. "Then they won't get mixed up in the wash."

"I've got a laundry marking pen, I'll just write an S on yours. Plus we can always check the tags for the size. They won't get mixed up," JJ said.

Spencer sighed. He should have thought of getting something different the last time he was out shopping with Hotch, but it hadn't occurred to him until now.

"Write on mine, too!" Henry demanded.

JJ smiled tolerantly down at her son. "I'll put a big H on yours for Henry."

"Right now!" Henry demanded.

"Just let me get this in the machine first."

Henry went downstairs with her, keeping hold of her free hand, and watched as his mother put the basket in the laundry room. As soon as she picked up the marking pen, though, Henry urged her back up to his room. Spencer thought he might help out by starting the machine, but he couldn't reach the controls, so he went into the kitchen to get a chair from the table.

"What'cha doin', kiddo?" Will asked from the sink.

"Just thought I'd help with the laundry," Spencer said, dragging the chair in front of the washing machine and opening the lid. There was already a load inside, so he started to remove it, one handful at a time, and piled them on top of the dryer. Suddenly at his side, Will reached in and gathered up all the remaining clothes.

"You're –"" Will hesitated, then changed what he was about to say -"a guest in our house. Guests don't have to help with the laundry. Not to mention it's your birthday. You should go get your shoes on."

"I've been dealing with washing machines for years, Will, I won't ruin anything," Spencer said, knowing that Will had wanted to say something about his age, or his size. Taking advantage of Will packing all the wet things into the dryer, Spencer transferred his own clothes from the basket to the washer. "Plus, JJ came over and did laundry for me when I got shot, so this is kind of like repaying the debt."

"Well, neither of us have been shot," JJ said, coming back in. "And does Hotch let you help with the laundry?"

"He lets Jack and me carry some of the dirty stuff down to the laundry room, but he does everything else," Spencer admitted, watching Will lift the detergent down from the shelf above the appliances, and realising he wouldn't have been able to reach it without climbing on top of the washer.

Will put the correct amount of detergent into the machine, shut the lid, set the controls, and pressed the button. Seeing that there was nothing left to do, Spencer got down off the chair and reached to take it back, but Will had already lifted it up. Defeated, Spencer went in search of his shoes.

Everybody congratulated him at work that day, and when everybody had arrived, Garcia produced a cake with thirty candles. Spencer was glad to see she hadn't stopped at five.

"If you can blow them out with one breath, then your wish will come true," she said, lighting them up. "I've placed them all close together so you should be able to manage it."

Everybody sang the happy birthday song, and as soon as they'd finished. Spencer took a deep breath and blew. When he had to inhale, however, one last flame continued to burn, and he had to give it a second puff.

"Oh, dear, I hope your wish wasn't to be re-aged soon," Garcia said. "'Cause it won't come true now."

"I didn't make a wish," Spencer said.

"And it's just a silly superstition," Emily said. She was sitting at her desk with her foot propped up on an extra chair. "What kind of cake is that? I hope it's chocolate."

"Red Velvet," said Garcia, cutting the first slice and putting it on a paper plate. "Except I didn't realise until it was too late that I was out of red food colouring, so it's more like Brown Velvet. Here ya go, Spencer."

Spencer carefully took the plate and reached for a fork.

"Doesn't matter the colour, it'll still taste good," Morgan said.

"Well, just for that, my luscious Brown Velvet Man, you get the next piece," Garcia simpered, and handed it over. Morgan didn't bother with a fork, just leaned down and took a bite from the top.

"Ummm, what did I say?" he said.

"It's excellent, Garcia," Spencer agreed.

When Garcia had given everyone in the circle a piece and they were all happily eating, Spencer realised someone was missing. "Garcia, don't forget Ally."

"Is she here?" Garcia glanced around, but Spencer had already spotted her at her desk. He put down his half-eaten slice and trotted over.

"Ally!" he said. "Come have a piece of cake!"

Ally looked up from her Arabic primer. "Thanks, but I don't usually eat sugar."

"But it's my birthday," he reminded her.

"Oh, well, twist my arm." She awkwardly wriggled a bookmark into place using her right hand, and Spencer said, "No, you can stay here, I'll bring it to you."

"Private jet and now my own personal waiter? I should transfer into this unit permanently and forget all about arson," she said. "Just a little piece, though."

Garcia cut a slightly smaller piece. Spencer carried the plate across the bullpen and presented it to Ally. "Bialeafiata!"

"Shukran," Ally replied.

After an awkward moment of hesitation, Spencer gave in and asked, "What does that mean?"

"Seriously? You can wish me a bon appetit in Arabic, but you don't know shukran?"

"From the context, I could assume it means 'thank you,' but it could also mean, 'the same to you,' or even something like 'this looks delicious,'" Spencer said. "But the truth is, I only know four words in Arabic and bialeafiata happens to be one of them."

Ally smiled. "And what are the other three words?"

"Salam, inshallah, and jihad." He noticed that Ally wrinkled her nose at the word jihad, but he'd only been telling the truth. It wasn't his fault that everybody in the world knew the word jihad now.

"Well, shukran means thank you, so now you know five words."

"Cool! Shukran, Ally!" Spencer went back to his desk in time to hear Morgan ask, "Guys, did you hear that? Reid just admitted he doesn't know everything!"

Everybody laughed, and Spencer told him, "There are lots of things I don't know."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Well …" Spencer stopped to consider exactly what he should admit to first, and the resulting pause made everybody laugh again. Then Hotch tossed his empty plate into the nearest wastepaper basket and strolled away to his office, and that was the signal for everybody else to drift back to work as well.

* * *

29 October 2011

The next day, JJ surprised them all at breakfast by announcing, "It's good weather, and Will's got a day off, so why don't we go out somewhere?"

"You have somethin' in mind, cherie?" Will asked.

"Yes, I thought we could go to this corn maze I heard about," she said.

"Oooh, a corn maze!" Spencer exclaimed, surprising not only Will and JJ, but also himself with his enthusiasm. He also caught the look that Will gave JJ, which clearly said, _I thought there was supposed to be an adult in that little body._

JJ grinned and went on. "There's also a kids maze, a playground and a farm animal section for Henry, and we can take a picnic."

"Picnic!" cried Henry.

"I've never been to a corn maze, but I've always wanted to go," Spencer said, trying not to kick his legs with excitement.

"Don't they have those where you're from?" Will asked.

"I'm from Las Vegas, and yes, there are corn mazes in Nevada. We just … never went." Spencer didn't explain, and thankfully, Will didn't ask.

"Then this will be a fun treat for all of us," JJ announced.

JJ's idea of a picnic was the same as Spencer's, stopping at the local store for various salads, drinks, and cookies, then at Subway for sandwiches. Lots of other families were taking advantage of the good weather to visit the corn maze, too, so they had to get in line to pay. At the ticket booth, they got a brochure, which Will read at a maddeningly slow speed.

"Kids maze first, then the farm animals?" Will suggested.

"Animals!" Henry agreed.

"May I see the brochure?" Spencer asked, and when Will handed it over, he quickly glanced through. "There are three mazes, the biggest one would definitely take too long for Henry, but could we do the intermediate one?"

JJ and Will looked at each other and shrugged. JJ said, "Sure, why not? One of us can carry Henry if he gets tired."

As they went through the intermediate maze, JJ said teasingly, "Do you think there'll be a minotaur in the middle?"

"The story of Theseus and the minotaur was a myth," Spencer told them eagerly. "Actually, there's no evidence of a labyrinth underneath the city of Knossos, and there was never a half-man, half-bull. However, the legend of the labyrinth could have come from a system of caves on the south side of Crete, or from the palace of Knossos, which was large and complicated, with many levels, stairs, and rooms," Spencer said.

"Sounds like every government building I've ever been in," Will said, and JJ laughed.

There were scarecrows with pumpkin heads in some of the dead ends of the maze,. Henry was a little nervous at seeing the first one, until JJ poked the scarecrow in the chest and squeezed its arm so that the straw filling rustled. Then he wanted to run ahead and grab every scarecrow, but Will insisted that Henry hold his hand so he wouldn't get separated from them. When JJ reached out for Spencer's hand, however, Henry ran back, Will stumbling along behind him, and told Spencer firmly, "My mom!"

"Sorry, Spence," JJ said. "It's a stage he's going through."

"I know," Spencer said. "It's okay, I don't need to hold hands. I'll stay right behind you and not run off."

Finally, they reached the end point, which was not a minotaur but a platform where they could climb up for a good view of everything around them. There were jack-o-lanterns on every step, and one in each corner, and Spencer saw lights inside them that could be lit when it got dark. He would have liked to have seen it all in the dark. But now, barely tall enough to see over the railing, Spencer took a good look at each quarter of the maze in broad daylight, then announced, "I know the quickest way to get us out now."

"Okay, then we can go see some animals," JJ said brightly.

"Giraffe?" Henry asked. The night before, his bedtime stories had included a book about animals at the zoo. "Tiger?"

"Definitely no tigers, and no giraffes. There might be cows, horses, things like that," Will said.

"There's a picture of a child and a goat here in this brochure," Spencer added. "And a donkey."

"Does it say anything about pony rides?" JJ asked. "My family took me to a corn maze once when we were kids, and I got to ride a pony around a big field."

"Yes, there are pony rides," Spencer said. "And hayrides, too."

"Well, Henry will probably need a nap after lunch, so I don't think we can do everything," JJ explained, which was okay with Spencer, because he didn't see the point of hayrides anyway, and he wasn't sure about pony rides, either. What if the pony reacted like Mudgie had? Thankfully, JJ went on to suggest, "Let's see the animals first."

Henry was delighted with the goat, and every other animal that was on display, even chasing the two chickens. Spencer stayed far away from the huge cow and everything else that was bigger than he was, and had no interest in chickens or goats, but happily stroked the large black and white rabbit. It had sniffed Spencer once, then turned its head away, but otherwise showed no signs of behaving like Mudgie. In fact, it was the complete opposite of the dog, patiently laying there and enjoying the attention, and Spencer thought it would probably let him cuddle it without kicking or biting. It was so soft that he wanted to pick it up and nuzzle it, feel its fur against his cheeks and nose, and Spencer was just about to gather it into his arms when something pushed against him.

"My bunny!" Henry insisted.

"The bunny is for everybody to share," JJ told him. "Everybody can take turns petting the bunny."

"I've had my turn, go ahead, Henry," Spencer said, and moved off with a mental sigh. He almost wished he had a soft, gentle rabbit to come home to at the end of each day, but who would take care of it while he was away? Emily had a cat-lady in her apartment building who was always ready to pounce on Sergio whether Emily was away or not, and Garcia helped out, too. But as far as Spencer knew, there weren't any bunny-ladies, or bunny daycare like there was for dogs, and especially not where he lived. Plus, he didn't even live there anymore, not since he'd been de-aged, and he couldn't imagine Hotch saying yes to a rabbit when he already had Jack and now Spencer to worry about. He turned away from the animals and put them out of his mind.

There was still time before lunch for them to go to the little children's playground. Spencer would rather have sat down somewhere and read a book, but JJ encouraged him to go down the huge tube slide with Henry. The tube slide would have been big enough for JJ or even Will to accompany their son, but he went with Henry anyway. At least Henry didn't try to push him out of the way and claim ownership of the tube for himself. Instead, he shrieked happily, grabbed Spencer's hand, and cried out, "Again!"

There were several children there already, and after a few times, Henry got bored with waiting in line, and went to the climbing frame. Spencer followed more slowly, and when one of the swings became free, he ran over and grabbed it. He'd always liked swinging. Now he started to pump, to get up high, but he'd barely gone back and forth three times before a male teenager ran in front of him. Spencer just had time to think _Oh, no!_ when the boy grabbed his ankles and pulled. Spencer flew out of the swing and slammed into the ground flat on his back.

He lay there for a moment, unable to breathe. He was vaguely aware that Will was there, speaking, but he couldn't understand anything except the need for air. In his increasing panic, he flopped onto his side, and breath rushed back into his lungs.

"Uhhh," he said, and then, because of the pain in his back and the aftermath of the panic, he started crying _again_!

"Spencer, here, it might help if you pulled your legs up a bit," Will said, helping Spencer curl into a loose ball.

JJ came running up as well. "Spencer?"

"I don't think anything's broken," Will reported. "He just got the wind knocked out of him, is all. All right, everybody, move back, he'll be fine in a few minutes."

"It was a distraction," JJ said. "A couple of women are screaming that their purses were snatched by other boys at the same time."

"I'll see about it," Will said. "You stay here with him? He'll get up when he's ready."

"Yeah." JJ squatted down where Spencer could see her, and Will went away. Henry came to his mother's side.

"Spencer sick?" he asked.

"Spencer's a little hurt," JJ replied, reaching down to smooth Spencer's hair away from his face. "He'll be okay in a minute."

Henry gave Spencer's knee a few hard pats, then ran around and bent over to kiss his ear with a loud smack that made Spencer recoil. "All better now."

Eventually, Spencer sat up and reached out for JJ, wanting a hug and reassurance. She gathered him up, rubbing his back gently with one hand, and found a nearby bale of hay to sit on. "You'll be okay, Spencer, you'll be fine."

"Couldn't … breathe," he gasped, trying not to cry anymore. He was really starting to hate crying.

"I know. It's scary when you get the breath knocked out of you, isn't it? But you're okay now."

Henry had climbed up the back of the hay bale and now he put both hands, even the one with the cast, on Spencer's shoulder and pushed. "My mom! My turn!"

"No, Henry," JJ said firmly. "It's still Spencer's turn because he's hurt."

But Henry pushed again. "My turn!"

"Henry, no." JJ was using her FBI voice now. "Spencer's turn."

Spencer detached himself slowly from JJ and scooted over to sit at her side. She put one arm around his shoulders, even when Henry immediately crawled into her lap and clung there like a koala on a tree. Spencer wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, then leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his abdomen in an ineffective attempt to still his body's hunger for more contact. He wanted to go home. He wanted _Hotch._

After a minute, Henry got bored with hugging, and ran to the climbing frame, calling for his mother to come watch.

"Are you feeling any better?" JJ asked.

"Uh huh," he said.

"Did you hit your head or get hurt anywhere else?"

"Huh unh. I'm okay."

Henry called again, and Spencer added, "You can go play with him. I'll just sit here."

JJ went reluctantly to her son, glancing worriedly back at him as she walked, and positioned herself so that she could see both of them. Spencer sat there, wishing he didn't have to share her hugs with Henry, wishing he could have her all to himself for as long as he wanted. He wished Hotch were there. And while he was wishing, he might as well wish his mom were available, too, and well enough to hold him and read to him. He closed his eyes, focusing on Tristan and Isolde, reciting it to himself and remembering his mother's voice.

A hand on his shoulder startled him into another flash of panic.

"Hey, Spencer, you awake? You all right?"

He blinked. It was Will, only Will.

"Oh, yeah, I'm all right," he said. "I'm awake. I was just thinking."

JJ came up, leading Henry by the hand. "Are you feeling better now, Spence?"

"Yeah," he said truthfully. His back still ached a little, but most of the pain and the panic had ebbed away.

"Did you find the kids who did this?" JJ asked Will.

"Nope, but we reported it to the local police, and found the purses in a ditch by the parking lot. Looks like they grabbed the cash and dumped everything else. Spencer wasn't the only distraction, either, the one boy shoved and grabbed a couple of other kids, too, and then his buddies took advantage of everybody looking somewhere else."

"That was a pretty bold ruse."

Spencer spoke up. "Do the police want to talk to me? I remember what the boy looked like, I could work with a sketch artist and give them a picture so they can find him."

Will hesitated, then said, "No offense, Spencer, but I don't think they'd trust your statement because of your, um, age. I know I wouldn't, if I were dealing with your average five-year-old."

He was right, but it still made Spencer feel disgruntled.

Seeing his face, JJ tried to lighten the mood a little. "Well, now that all the excitement's over, how about we have our picnic?"


	12. Chapter 12

"Spence? Spencer, it's okay, it was just a dream."

"Hotch!" Spencer screamed, and then JJ's arms were going around him, pulling him close. Sobbing, he fought back until she let go. "You killed him! You killed Hotch!"

"It was a dream, Spencer," JJ insisted. "Hotch is fine. He's alive and well. You were just dreaming."

"No, he's dead! I saw his body! You killed him!"

JJ took a slightly firmer tone and stated, "Spencer, Hotch is not dead and I did not kill him. You were dreaming."

Spencer stopped screaming, but continued to cry. His heart was pounding. It had been so real, and he'd been so afraid and so devastated. "Hotch …"

"Call him up, cherie!" came a male voice with a New Orleans drawl from the doorway. "Let him talk to Hotch, see for himself that he's all right."

Spencer looked up to see Will standing there in the light of the hall, holding out a cellphone. JJ got up to take it, then dialled and gave the phone to Spencer. After three rings, a familiar voice croaked, "Hotchner."

"Hotch!" Spencer wailed. "You're not dead!"

"No, buddy, I'm not dead," Hotch replied. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"I dreamed that – that JJ killed you! And she was trying - trying to lie to me that she hadn't, but I saw you – I saw your dead body!"

"That must have been a pretty bad nightmare," Hotch said. "But I'm alive, JJ did not kill me, and nobody is lying to you. Okay?"

"And I couldn't – couldn't go home with you because – because you were dead! And I couldn't go home – couldn't go home with JJ because – because she killed you! And I couldn't go home – couldn't go home with Rossi or Morgan because – because they have dogs! And I couldn't go home with Emily because – because of her foot! And I couldn't go home with Garcia because of Kevin! And I couldn't go to Gideon because he was gone! And I couldn't even go live with the black and white rabbit because Henry had it!"

After a moment, Hotch said, "I'll bet you felt all alone, like everybody had abandoned you."

"Uh huh." Now that he had talked it all out, Spencer felt the panic start to ebb and his sobs begin to subside.

"But I'm here, Spencer. I'm not dead. JJ did not kill me. And you couldn't go live with a rabbit anyway, whatever that was all about."

"That was just part of the dream," Spencer said, sniffing. Now that he'd stopped crying and the panic was mostly gone, he was starting to feel distinctly sheepish.

"And if there really was nobody else to take care of you, I'll bet Strauss would take you for a night or two."

Spencer managed a shaky laugh. "Hotch, you're supposed to be making me feel better, not giving me more nightmares."

The amusement was audible in Hotch's voice as he asked, "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah. I'm okay." Spencer used his fingers to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Do you think you could let JJ give you a hug from me?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry I woke you up. But you can blame Will, he's the one who actually called you."

"Thanks!" Will exclaimed in the background.

"I would have done the same thing," Hotch said. "Now let JJ hug you, and then go back to sleep, and have good dreams about books or physics magic or … something."

Spencer smiled. "Okay. Thanks, Hotch. Good night."

"Good night, Spencer."

Spencer ended the call and returned the phone. "Thanks, Will. I'm really sorry I woke you guys up. Um, you can go back to bed now. I'll be all right."

"Do you want a hug?" JJ asked.

Spencer was just about to say yes when Henry made a soft snuffling sound in his sleep. Afraid that he would wake up and make a grab for his mom, Spencer hastily said, "No, that's okay."

"Here, Spencer, come with me," JJ said, extending her hand. Spencer got out of the sleeping bag on his own and followed her across the hall to their bedroom, but hesitated at the door.

"No offence, cherie, but I don't want him sleeping in our bed," Will said.

"I don't want that, either. That'd be too weird," Spencer agreed.

"I just want to have a little talk with you, Spencer, where we won't wake Henry up, and then you can go back, okay?"

"Not like you can wake me up anymore than you already did," Will said, going around to the opposite side.

"I'm sorry!" Spencer exclaimed. "I didn't mean to have a nightmare. I'll try not to, from now on, and if I do, I'll try not to make noise."

"Oh, honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about." JJ sat down on the edge of the mattress, then patted the space next to her. "Come here."

Spencer climbed warily up onto the bed, wondering what she wanted to discuss.

"I heard what Hotch told you," she said. "I should give you a hug from him. And I know why you said you didn't want one. Henry's been really possessive lately, and you're too nice to push back."

"You're his mother, you're not mine," Spencer said.

"Yes, but sometimes you need hugs, and sometimes there's nobody around except me who can give them to you. So, now that we're undisturbed, I want to give you that hug from Hotch, and then another one from me, okay? And you can hug me as long as you want to, because Henry's not here to push you away. Okay?"

"Okay." Spencer let her settle him in her lap, and hugged back as she put her arms around him. "Thanks, JJ."

* * *

31 October 2011

Monday was Halloween. Henry had already got his costume the week before, and pulled it on before breakfast because he was supposed to wear it to daycare for the planned Halloween party there. Spencer was not surprised to see it represented one of the Sword-Swinging Cats, and asked politely, "Which Cat are you?"

"Tobias Itchpaw!" Henry announced, and Spencer was just glad he wasn't drinking anything at that moment. Thankfully, the flash of dread at that name passed almost as quickly as it had come.

"Twitchpaw," he corrected.

"I'm afraid Henry got it mixed up the first time he tried to say it, and because we laughed, he's been calling him Tobias Itchpaw ever since," JJ explained.

Spencer forced a smile. He tried not to wish that Henry had got the Tobias part mixed up instead, but reminded himself that it was only because he was a child that the name was affecting him this badly. Once he got back to his regular age, it wouldn't bother him so much.

"What kind of costume do you think you'd like for when you go out trick-or-treating to-night?" Will asked.

"We're going trick-or-treating?" Spencer felt silly for not having realised it before. This year, he wouldn't be sitting in his apartment with a small bowl of candy in case somebody rang his bell. Of course JJ would be taking Henry out, even if Will had to work, and of course Spencer would have to go with them. Well, it wouldn't be too bad. He liked candy, too.

"We could buy you a costume quickly on the way home from work," JJ added. "You could be one of the other Cats. They're really popular this year."

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "I always wanted to be Mr Spock or Doctor Who, but I don't think they have costumes like that for kids."

"Definitely not Mr Spock," Will said. "Saw a little kind of lab coat, though."

Spencer looked at him in dismay. "Doctor Who doesn't wear a lab coat!"

"Will's never seen Doctor Who," JJ explained. "He's not really into science fiction."

"Saw plenty of policeman costumes if you want to be somebody cool," Will teased.

"I could just wear my badge and tell everybody I'm an FBI profiler," Spencer said. "That's cooler."

JJ laughed and shot Will a fond look. "He's got you there."

* * *

Hotch entered the bullpen shortly after they did, and JJ caught his eye. "Happy Halloween, Hotch. Are you taking Jack out trick-or-treating?"

"No, and Jack's pretty upset about it. He keeps claiming he's not that sick." Hotch smiled. "He even got a pair of barbecue tongs that he said he could use to get the candy so he wouldn't get close enough to breathe on anybody."

JJ and Spencer both laughed, and JJ said, "When he's well enough, why don't you bring him over to our place for a catch-up Halloween celebration? The boys can wear their costumes and we can play some games, watch a Halloween movie or something?"

"That's a good idea, thanks. What about you, Spencer? Are you dressing up and going trick-or-treating with Henry?"

"Yeah. JJ's taking me out after work to buy a costume and then we're going around the neighbourhood."

"What kind of costume are you thinking of? Jack was begging to be Cheerwell Stumptail, but he got sick before we could buy anything for him."

"I don't know, I haven't decided yet. I'll just see what's available."

But when they got to the store, there wasn't much choice. Spencer glanced at the Tinkerbell costume and the generic princess costume and sighed.

"I guess I'll be an FBI profiler," Spencer said. "My FBI jacket would have been a nice touch, but I left it at Hotch's."

"You can wear mine," JJ offered.

"Oh, yeah, that's a good idea, thanks."

At home, with Henry waiting impatiently, he pulled on JJ's jacket, which thankfully was not quite as long as his, let her roll up the sleeves so he could get his hands out, then attached his badge to the front. JJ got a pillowcase for each of them, and off they went, starting with the neighbours in the house next door. There were lots of other families out at the same time, patient-looking parents escorting their brightly costumed children up and down the streets. Along with the Cats, who apparently greeted each other with happy cries of "Salute, Sword-Swingers!" there were also an awful lot of children wearing Hogwarts robes, pointing wands and yelling "Expelliarmus!" and, once, even "Avada Kedavra!"

Spencer answered that one by pointing his fingers like a gun and shouting, "Freeze, FBI!" which made JJ giggle.

But eventually JJ said, "It's time to go home now."

Spencer looked around. "But we haven't finished the street yet."

"It's six thirty and Henry's getting over-excited. He needs a few minutes to unwind before bed, and I think you do, too," JJ explained.

"But the street only has two more houses on this side. Can't we do those two at least?"

"More tricker treat!" Henry demanded.

JJ sighed. "Okay, those two, and nothing else. After the last one there, we are going home."

The first of the two houses unfortunately had a poster on it that a sex offender lived there, and children were not allowed to trick or treat. And at first it seemed that the second house also had a similar poster on the door, but as they got closer, Spencer could see that it advertised something completely different.

"All Hallows Read!" he announced. "Look, a picture of Frankenstein's Monster! Do you think they'll hand out copies of _Frankenstein_?"

"I wouldn't think so," JJ said. "It's probably just a decoration."

They rang the bell and when the door opened, Spencer and Henry bellowed "Trick or treat!" The man in the doorway said, "Well, would you like candy or a book?"

"A book!" Spencer exclaimed. Henry, of course, wanted, "Candy!"

"Finally, somebody who wants a book!" the man exclaimed. "How about … this one?"

He offered Spencer a red book with a drawing of a boy on the front. "It's _called Jim, Who Ran Away from His Nurse and Was Eaten by a Lion_."

Spencer looked at the book and said, "It just says "_A Cautionary Tale, Jim_, and then here it says _Warning, contains a dangerous beast and a miserable end_."

"Oh, you can read already?"

"Yes, I can read already. What other books do you have on offer?" Spencer looked past the man, to a small pile of books on a chair by the door. "Do you have the original _Frankenstein_? I haven't read that one yet."

The man's smile turned into a slightly bewildered expression and he said, "No, funnily enough, there's not much demand for Mary Shelley among the kids who come to my door for treats. Or among the adults, either, come to think of it. But I do have a book of nefarious silliness called _Hallowilloween_ if you'd prefer some poetry."

"Nefarious silliness?" Spencer repeated, and the man reached back for the next book on the pile. It was a black book with a painting of an orange cat's head on the front, broadly grinning to show many sharply pointed teeth.

"Poems might be fun," Spencer mused. "I haven't read much poetry. Okay, I'll take that one. Thank you!"

He took it and stuffed it into his pillowcase to read later.

"You're very welcome, Mister FBI Agent. Did your mommy help you get that badge? Nice touch." Without waiting for an answer, the man looked over at Henry. "And you said you wanted candy?"

"Candy!" Henry demanded.

The man pulled out a bowl of small cartons of Milk Duds and let Henry take one, then offered it to Spencer, who said, "No, thank you, I already have the book."

"You can have both," the man said.

"Both books?" Spencer could hardly believe his luck, and only then realised the man had probably meant both a book and candy.

"Sure, why not? Looks like they're going to a good home." The man handed over the first book as well.

"Oh, yes," JJ put in. "This boy just loves books."

"Thank you so much!" Spencer exclaimed again. JJ nudged Henry and prompted, "What do we say?"

"Fank you!" Henry said.

"Hope you like them. Come back next year for more. Happy Halloween!" The man shut the door.

Spencer was so excited about the books, even though they were for children, that he went down one of the porch steps, then jumped over all the others to land on the walkway. He even added a few extra jumps just for good measure. "I got books for Halloween! I didn't know people gave out books for Halloween! This is so cool!"

"I had no idea that this was a thing," JJ admitted.

"Do you think there's anybody else around here who gives away books?" Spencer asked, looking around as they walked and hoping to spot another All Hallows Read poster on a door.

"I don't think so, and anyway, what did I say? That was the last house and we are going home now," JJ said.

"Henry, do you want me to read you some of the poems before bed?" Spencer asked.

"No bed," Henry said. "More tricker treat!"

"Yes bed," JJ said. "Trick or treat is over for this year."

"JJ, this was the best Halloween ever!" Spencer exclaimed. "Thanks for taking me!"

"It's so good to see you happy again, Spencer," JJ said, smiling. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

* * *

November 2011

After spending ten days with JJ and Will, Spencer went back to Hotch's apartment to find that Hotch had bought a second chest of drawers and a bunk bed for Jack's room. Jack got the top bunk, because he was older, and Spencer found that he did not miss sleeping on the floor or living out of his go-bag at all. Hotch also took him to buy a winter coat and boots, which turned out to be a good idea, because their next case took them to Michigan, where it had already snowed. The autumn season for soccer ended, and snow fell in Virginia as well. When Spencer admitted he'd never been sledding before, because snow was rare in Las Vegas, Hotch took him and Jack to the nearest hill. It was wonderfully fun. But as Thanksgiving approached, Spencer found himself feeling uneasy more and more often, and finally, Hotch noticed.

"What's up, Spencer?" he asked after they had dropped Jack off at school and were on their way to work.

"Nothing," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem a bit distracted lately. And I thought you might have been crying this morning."

Spencer frowned. He'd tried to hide the fact that he'd woken up with tears in his eyes, but perhaps he hadn't turned away fast enough when Hotch had come in. Finally, he sighed. "I dreamed last night that the re-aging machine was ready, and I jumped into it, and when I came out, I was old, and I kept getting older, really fast, in seconds instead of minutes, until I got so old that I died, and then I woke up. And I thought, what if I really do die, and I never get to see my mom again?"

"You want to go visit your mom?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah," Spencer admitted. "I miss her more than I used to when I was older. I'd really like to see her again. Calling her on the phone wouldn't be the same, but I think I would be able to convince her it's really me if I could see her in person. She's always telling me 'a mother knows' and 'mothers feel these things.'"

"You went out to see her last Thanksgiving, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and the year before that, too, and I was hoping to go again this Thanksgiving as well, but that was before I got de-aged," Spencer said. "But please don't think you have to take me. I know Jack's really looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with you and Jessica and his grandpa."

"And I can tell you're not," Hotch said.

"I'd feel like an intruder. I don't even know Jessica all that well, and I've never met your father-in-law. But I'll be good and try not to embarrass you."

Later that morning, however, they were headed out to a case in West Wendover, Nevada.

"If we get back in time for Thanksgiving, where will you celebrate it?" Spencer asked Ally as they sat on the plane.

"With Gabriel and his family," she replied with compartmentalized calm, then turned the question around. "And you?"

"I'll be going with Hotch to his in-laws," he said, trying and failing to match her completely neutral tone.

JJ leaned over. "You can come with us, Spence. Will and I will be taking Henry to my mother."

"I'd invite you, too, but I promised I'd spend my Thanksgiving with both of my parents, if I'm in town," Emily put in, though she sounded even less excited about it than Spencer felt about Hotch's in-laws. "A real family dinner."

"I'll be trying to get to Chicago, see my mother and my sisters," Morgan put in. "You're welcome to come with me if you want – you've met them before."

"Yeah, as an adult," Spencer remembered. "But thanks anyway."

"Kevin and I are celebrating at home," Garcia said brightly. "No in-laws, no outlaws, just the two of us."

"It'll just be the two of us, too," Rossi put in. "Me and Mudgie."

They ended up catching the group of Unsubs on the afternoon before Thanksgiving Day. Everybody packed quickly, looking forward to a night flight and an early arrival for the holiday. But as Spencer was finishing zipping his go-bag, there was a knock at the door of his hotel room. He raced over to answer it, sure that it would be Morgan rounding them up for the drive to the airstrip, and was surprised to see Rossi there.

"Hey, kiddo, can I come in?" he asked.

"Sure." Spencer trotted away from the door, and Rossi followed. "Johnson, the cars are already out front. I just want to talk to Spencer for a minute."

"I'll give you the room," Ally said, pulling her bag over her shoulder and going out. Rossi sat down in one of the chairs, and Spencer climbed up onto the other one.

"So, Spencer, how about we rent a car and drive down to Vegas to visit your mother?" Rossi offered, and Spencer gaped at him for a moment.

"Did Hotch put you up to this?" he finally asked.

"He might have mentioned the situation," Rossi said. "But I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to go."

"I'd really like to see my mom," Spencer said. "I miss her so much."

"Well, then, come on. We can take a few days, you can show me the desert."

"In those shoes?" Spencer looked down at Rossi's custom-made footware, and they both smiled.

Rossi made some calls and got them a room in Vegas, then the team dropped them off at the nearest car rental place and they rented the best of what was available. When they stopped for supper, Spencer bit happily into his cheeseburger. "I thought I'd never eat fast food again, what with Ally watching out for me."

"What does she feed you?"

"Healthy stuff. Weird vegetables like eggplant and kale. Lots of lentils and beans."

"Beans," said Rossi slowly, savouring the word. "My Nonna used to make the most delicious pasta e fagioli. My mother made it, too, but hers wasn't as good as Nonna's. We had it so often that I thought I'd never want to eat it again … until I'd been in the marines for a week, and then I would have killed for it. I used to dream about it in Vietnam."

"I never dream about food," Spencer said. "I dreamed about coffee a few weeks ago, though."

"Why am I not surprised?" Rossi laughed.

After they got back on the road, it didn't take long for Spencer to fall asleep, and he only woke up when Rossi got him out of the car seat and made him walk to the elevator. He was vaguely aware of clinging to Rossi's arm to keep himself standing as they rode up and entered the hotel room, and then he staggered to the nearest bed and lay down on top of the covers.

The next thing he knew, the sun was streaming through one window and he was hungry. Rossi was asleep on his back in the other bed, snoring lightly, so Spencer went over and gave him a little shake. "Rossi!"

Rossi made an unhappy sound and turned away from him. Spencer tried again. "Rossi, can we have breakfast now?"

"G'back t'sleep," Rossi mumbled.

"But it's daytime, and I'm hungry." Almost every day since being de-aged, Spencer had woken up ready and willing to eat. He supposed it was part of "being a growing boy."

"Room service," Rossi told him without even opening his eyes.

Sighing, Spencer went around to the other side of the bed where the telephone was, found the laminated sheet of emergency numbers that included room service and picked up the receiver. Then he realized he didn't know which room they were in, so he went to the door and opened it to see the number on the outside, then came back to the phone.

"Hello, I'd like to order breakfast, please," he said.

"Sweetie, we don't let children younger than fourteen order room service, but I'll be happy to talk to your mommy or daddy," the woman on the other end told him. "Can you put them on, or are they still asleep?"

"They're still asleep, but thanks, anyway." Defeated, Spencer hung up. Sometimes he really hated being this young. A memory came into his mind of Dr Kapoor explaining how his wife had been willing to offer all their money and the house to be twenty nine again. Spencer knew exactly how she felt, even if he was coming from the opposite direction.

Although growing hungrier and hungrier, Spencer managed to keep himself occupied until Rossi woke up on his own and went through his morning routine. Finally, Rossi was ready, but when Spencer mentioned breakfast, Rossi frowned. "Didn't you get room service?"

"They wouldn't let me order because I'm not old enough," Spencer said with a scowl.

"Oh. Sorry, guess I wasn't thinking. Well, I think I saw a couple of restaurants on our way in, how about you pick the one you want to eat at?"

As they went through the lobby, Spencer saw a rack of brochures advertising various attractions around Las Vegas. Having grown up there, he knew most of them, but then something unfamiliar caught his eye. He let go of Rossi's hand so that he could get closer and pick up the brochure.

"Rossi, look! The National Atomic Testing Museum! In association with the Smithsonian Institution! This must be new, I've never seen it before! Do you think we have time to go, after I've seen my mom?"

Rossi looked at the brochure. "It's probably closed to-day, but we should be able to go to-morrow, if …"

He let his voice trail off until Spencer was looking expectantly at him. "If what, Rossi?"

"If you don't let go of my hand and run off like that again."

"It was only three steps!" Spencer protested, but slumped under Rossi's glare. "Yes, sir."

"And," Rossi continued, lowering his voice a little, "if you call me Nonno. Not Rossi, not grandpa, not dad. Nonno."

"Yes … Nonno," Spencer said, trying it out. It felt so weird. 'Grandpa' would have been weird, too, but slightly less … well … foreign.

"Only for this trip and only when we're in public, so people don't get the wrong idea about us," Rossi clarified. "Don't call me that back in the office."

"Okay." Spencer had no intention of calling him Nonno back at the office, and wondered how little he could manage to use it out in public, too.

* * *

Was there anything you particularly liked or disliked? Tell me! :-)


	13. Chapter 13

24 November 2011

Finally, after breakfast, they drove to Bennington Sanitarium to see if Spencer could see his mother. Children under the age of fourteen were not allowed, so Spencer had told Rossi to ask to speak to Dr Norman first.

"I'm so sorry, Dr Norman is on vacation this week," the man at the front desk told them.

"Is there some other doctor I could consult, one who is hopefully very familiar with Diana Reid?" Rossi pressed.

"Is Dr Jesson here?" Spencer asked. "Rebecca Jesson?"

The man looked down at him in surprise, then looked over to Rossi for confirmation. When Rossi nodded, the man finally answered, "Yes, as a matter of fact, she is. I'll contact her."

Dr Jesson was the complete opposite of Dr Norman, female, not older than forty, with a head full of thick, auburn hair and a more open and friendly expression. Ushering them into her office, she asked, "Agent Rossi, what can I do for you?"

"Well, it's rather complicated, I'm afraid, and it won't be easy to believe," Rossi began. "It's about Diana Reid's son, Spencer."

"Dr Reid? Has something happened?" she asked, her expression changing instantly to one of concern. She glanced down at Spencer, obviously wondering if such a young child should be there for that kind of conversation, and why he was even there in the first place if this were FBI business.

"Yes, something's happened, but not in the way you're thinking. And let me assure you, this is not a joke." Rossi indicated Spencer. "This is Spencer Reid. We were investigating a rogue SHIELD scientist and Dr Reid accidentally fell into the machine the man had built. It de-aged him twenty five years."

"I retained all my memories, so I'm actually a thirty-year-old man in a five-year-old body," Spencer put in. "And we're telling you this because I'd really like to see my mom."

"Okay," Dr Jesson said. No doubt she'd heard a lot of strange things from her patients, because she remained professionally calm. "I'm not sure I can believe all this right now. Do you have any way of proving it?"

"My mother has paranoid schizophrenia and I had her committed in November of 1999, right after I turned eighteen," Spencer said. "And, um, we needed her help on a case in May 2006, and I asked two FBI agents to bring her to Quantico even though I knew she was afraid of flying. Her absence from Bennington should be on her file."

He gave her the exact date, and Dr Jesson checked, then raised an eyebrow as she looked back at him.

"I know you're thinking that somebody could have told me all that," he went on. "Like I said, it's all on her file. Um, right before that, I came to visit her, and we actually talked in person for a few minutes. I don't think that would be on any file, but maybe you remember? I hadn't met you before then, but Dr Norman sometimes spoke about you. And my mom does, too. She likes you a lot. Anyway, you were telling me how Mom wrote about my cases in her journals, and how she referred to them as adventures."

Dr Jesson just stared at him.

"I know it's been a while, and you meet a lot of family members, so if you remember at all, you probably remember the older me, where I was taller than you." Spencer realized he was starting to babble, and tried to think of what else he could say that would help prove he was telling her the truth. "You already know that I write a letter to my mom every day, and that I have an eidetic memory. If you want to borrow a letter from her, you can just tell me the date, and I'll tell you what I wrote. Any date, any letter since she's been here. Would that help convince you? There are hundreds of letters – my mom keeps them in her wardrobe in shoeboxes that the staff bring in for her. So, um, just go pick one. I'll have no way of knowing which one it is."

"Well," Dr Jesson said. "I'm … uh … intrigued, so, okay. Why not?"

She took the file with her when she left, and it was a good fifteen minutes before she returned with two stamped envelopes.

"All right, let's give this a try," she said. Holding her hands under the desk, she shuffled them around, opened one, and looked at the letter inside. "May thirteenth, 2009."

"Dear Mom, this will be a short letter because I am in the hospital with pneumonia," Spencer recited. For security reasons, he hadn't been allowed to mention anthrax. "I sleep a lot, and when I'm not asleep, I'm coughing. The doctors say I'm responding well to treatment and should be well enough to go home soon. I don't like being in the hospital. There's hardly anything to read here. Good thing I sleep a lot, otherwise I'd go stir-crazy. I fell asleep this afternoon and dreamed I was in a hospital bed in the library at Cal-Tech. It was so great, being able to just reach out and grab any book I wanted. But then I woke up. I get meals here, but I don't have much appetite. Morgan brings me Jello and even ice cream from the cafeteria. Penelope brought me mocha-flavoured cupcakes, but the crumbs made me cough. Emily was nice enough to buy me a book in Russian, which I read even though it was a historical mystery. I'm so sick that it took me an hour to get through it. Even writing this letter is hard. I will give it to the next person who visits, and they will get a stamp and send it off for me. I hope you're doing better than I am, Mom. I love you. Spencer."

Dr Jesson raised her eyes from the letter, but didn't speak. Rossi said, "I remember that. Those cupcakes were good, but you didn't have to bribe me to get me to mail your letter."

"I wanted Garcia to think I'd eaten all of them," Spencer admitted. "Dr Jesson, may I please see my mother? It's been a year since I came here, and ever since I got de-aged, I just miss her so much. I'd really just like to see her again and give her a hug."

He heard a trace of a whine in his voice, and stopped before it became full-blown.

"It just seems so incredible," Dr Jesson finally said. "I can hardly believe it, but this proof … and you did mention SHIELD ..."

"Strange Happenings in Every Last Doghouse," Spencer said, and to his surprise, Dr Jesson leaned her head back and laughed. "Oh my G-d, you are so right! Except I always thought it was spooky, not strange."

"I've heard spooky, strange, and supernatural," Spencer said. "I suppose superhuman would work, too."

"Especially ever since the discovery of Captain America," Dr Jesson agreed, and then she shrugged. "All right, I guess you've convinced me that it's you, Dr Reid, as strange or supernatural as this might be. But I'm not sure that you should see your mother."

"Please," Spencer said again.

"I just don't know how this would affect her," Dr Jesson went on.

"Please, just let me try," Spencer said. "I know I can convince her it's me if you'll just let me have a chance. And I know SHIELD is working on reversing the de-aging, but nobody knows how long it will take, and if something happens … I just want to see her."

Dr Jesson was silent for a long moment, considering, and then she sighed and said, "All right. But I will be with you all the time, and if I tell you to leave, you leave. No discussion."

"No discussion," Spencer agreed, unable to hold back a wide smile. "Thank you, Dr Jesson."

They walked out of Dr Jesson's office and down the hall to the large day room where Spencer's mom was sitting in a chair by the window, looking a large book in her lap.

"Diana," Dr Jesson said conversationally. "Are you looking at photos of your son?"

"Spencer, yes," his mother agreed, smiling fondly. "He's in Nevada now, having an adventure up in West Wendover. He sent me a letter."

"I'd love to hear all about it, but right now, there's someone to see you." Dr Jesson stepped aside, and Spencer came forward. His mother's gaze lingered quizzically on him for a moment, then moved up to Rossi.

"I've seen you before," she said.

"Mom," Spencer said, trying to get her attention. "I know this might be a little hard to believe, but it's me, Spencer."

"You're from the government," his mother said, ignoring him and addressing Rossi. "You said you work for the FBI."

"That's right, I'm David Rossi, and I work with your son, Spencer," Rossi said, patting Spencer's shoulder.

"I've been de-aged, Mom," Spencer went on. "You remember how you used to call me Crash because I was so clumsy? Well, I fell into this machine and it made my body twenty five years younger. But I've still got all my memories, and it's still me, Mom. Look, remember this picture? That was when –"

He indicated one near the top of the page that his mother was looking at, but she pushed his hand away. "Don't touch that. I don't know who you are, but if you think you're my son, you're crazier than I am."

"Mom, look at me. Remember what I looked like when I was five?"

"You have different glasses," his mother said. "The frames back then were bigger."

"Yes!" Spencer exclaimed, encouraged that his mother had looked at him enough to notice the difference. "I had to get new ones because I was de-aged. And my hair isn't quite the same. But it's really me. Look at that picture. Remember how you got me those two Erector sets for Christmas when I was eight –"

"You are not my son, so don't pretend that you are."

Spencer blinked up at her, surprised. "Mom, you're always telling me 'a mother knows these things.' Just trust your feelings, you know it's true!"

"Stop quoting Star Wars at me, young man. I hate those films."

Spencer didn't bother to correct the quote he hadn't meant to make, or mangle, in the first place. "Mom! Look at me, and look at the pictures. Just turn back a few pages, there's a picture of me on my fifth birthday, with the chemistry kit you and dad got me, remember?"

"Get away from me," his mother said, pushing him so that he had to take a step back. "Just get away!"

She stood up from her chair, backing away, and glared at Rossi. "I know what you're doing, trying to smuggle that little robot into my life, that – that little, what do you call them, life model decoy, so you can use it to spy on me!"

"I'm not a robot," Spencer protested, utterly shocked. "I am not spying on you!"

"Diana, calm down," Dr Jesson said, and Spencer could tell she was just a sentence away from sending him out, no discussion.

"You thought I'd believe you were my son, let you into my life, let you stay here with me so you can spy on me every minute of the day?" Diana shrieked. "I'll poke your cameras out!"

"Mom, please, no!" he cried even as Dr Jesson told him, "Dr Reid, out, now!"

It all happened quickly after that; his mother swiping furiously at his face, Spencer backing up, Rossi and Dr Jesson catching her and pinning her arms, the orderlies coming with a syringe to sedate her. He thought about running out of the day room, but there were too many people between him and the door, so he stayed where he was.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Mom."

With tears in his eyes, but trying hard not to sob, he directed his next apology to Dr Jesson. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to see her, I didn't think this would happen, I'm so sorry!"

As the orderlies helped his mother away, Spencer put his hands over his face and held his breath, trying to hide the fact that he was crying. He didn't want to upset anybody else in the day room – who knew how they might react?

"I can't apologise enough for all of this," he heard Rossi say, but then Spencer had to exhale, trying hard not to make noise, and didn't catch what Dr Jesson replied. Then Rossi answered, "I'll take him out."

Rossi lifted him up and Spencer burrowed into the man's shoulder, trying to sob as quietly as possible. Rossi carried him outside, all the way to the bench farthest from the building and closest to the parking lot.

"Mom!" Spencer wailed when it was finally safe to do so. "I want my mom!"

"I know you do," Rossi said, sitting down and rocking him a little.

"Why is it that I – that I could prove to everybody – that it's me – everybody else – but not my own mother?" Spencer sobbed.

"Because your mother is ill, Spencer, and I would guess her illness doesn't allow her brain to make the leap of faith that the rest of us took."

"But of all the people in the world – she should be able – to recognise me!"

"Yeah, she should." Rossi continued to rock him for a moment.

"I just wanted to see her – in case something happens – I shouldn't have talked to her – I should have just looked – and gone away –"

"Maybe it's partly my fault," Rossi suggested. "Maybe she wouldn't have reacted so strongly if I hadn't been there."

"She's always been – worried about the government – spying on her," Spencer tried to explain. "That's the worst – symptom."

"Yeah," Rossi agreed.

They sat together without speaking for a long time. Eventually, Spencer was able to stop crying and just leaned tiredly against Rossi's shoulder, becoming aware of the differences between him and Hotch. Rossi was nice enough, but it wasn't the same. And Spencer still hated crying. "I want to go home. Can we go home, Rossi?"

"I'll have to book us a flight," Rossi said. "In the meantime, do you want to go back to the hotel and have a nap?"

"I don't need a nap." Spencer tried not to snap irritably.

"It's still a bit early for lunch, but do you want a snack?"

"I'm not hungry. Let's just go back to the hotel."

They drove back and went up to their room. Spencer sank down in one of the chairs, pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, then stared morosely out of the window. Taking the other chair, Rossi opened his laptop and tried to find a flight out of Las Vegas with two free seats. Finally, after much searching, he said, "Unless you want to stay and go to that atomic museum, we can drive to St. George to-morrow and fly from there to Salt Lake City, then back to Washington."

"I don't want to stay," Spencer replied dully. He didn't care about museums now. "I'll pay you back for the ticket, and for the rental car."

"Don't worry about that." Rossi made the booking, then looked up again. "Hey, want to play a video game? You might have fun with this Lego Pirates of the Caribbean thing."

"No, thank you," Spencer said, still lacking positive emotions. "I'm not really into video games."

"I'm guessing you don't have any books to read."

"I brought some, but I read them already."

"You want to read what I've written on my newest book so far?"

Spencer felt his mood brighten a little. "Can I?"

"Sure, come here." Rossi opened the file while Spencer turned his chair back to the table.

He read rapidly and eagerly at the beginning, but then he found himself pointing out typos, and discussing certain concepts with Rossi. Eventually, he tried to move the curser down even farther, only to discover it wouldn't go.

"Is that it?" he asked.

"That's it," Rossi said. "That's all I've written so far."

"Oh. Well, I can wait if you want to write some more." Spencer pushed the laptop over to him in silent invitation.

"You'd starve to death before I finished the next chapter," Rossi told him, smiling. "And speaking of starving, how about lunch? You hungry yet?"

Spencer considered. "Not really."

"Want to go to the pool and work up an appetite?"

"Do you?" Spencer asked, surprised.

"Yes, I do. Come on, get your swimsuit on and let's go."

To Spencer's surprise, Rossi wore a pair of trunks that went down to his knees, pink with little green turtles on them – completely different to the more conservative clothes he wore on the job. Just looking at them made Spencer smile.

It was the only thing about going swimming that made him smile. The hotel was pretty much full because of Thanksgiving, and the indoor pool was also full with parents and children either working up an appetite or working off brunch. Wherever Spencer turned, there was somebody in his way, and he was frequently bumped and pushed. Although it was always accidental, it soon became annoying.

"Nonno, can we go now?" he asked, but when Rossi didn't respond right away, Spencer poked him in the arm. "Nonno! Can we go now?"

"It's a bit crowded in here, isn't it?" Rossi asked rhetorically. "Let's go see if lunch is any better."

But it wasn't. There were long lines of people waiting at every restaurant and café inside the hotel. They joined the one that looked like it would be shortest, but Spencer was soon bored and impatient, and the noises of the slot machines in the lobby around them were starting to get on his nerves.

"I'm not really hungry, can't we just go back to our room now?" he asked.

"I think you should eat something," Rossi told him. "Tell me some statistics if it will make you feel better."

"Did you know that up to three hundred thousand people are expected to visit Las Vegas every Thanksgiving weekend?"

"And they all want to eat at this hotel," Rossi remarked.

"Actually, more than ninety percent of all the hotel rooms in this city are occupied, and Las Vegas is considered to be the number one Thanksgiving destination in the US." Spencer soon branched out from tourism to the origins of Thanksgiving in general and was just starting in on immigration to the American continent in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when a teenaged girl just ahead of them in line turned around and snapped, "Would you just shut up? You're making this whole thing worse, you little midget!"

"Did you know that saying "little midget" is redundant, since both words mean approximately the same thing? It's known as a tautology –" Spencer started, but Rossi put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, we're all still looking for his off switch," he said with a smile, attempting to defuse the situation with a little humour.

"Did you ever try putting both hands around his neck and –"

"Amber!" the girl's mother said warningly, and the girl turned away, huffing in annoyance.

Spencer looked down at the floor. He tried hard to remain silent for as long as he could, but listening to the electronic whistles and bells of the slot machines, and the rattle of coins in the trays when somebody won, and with the memory of seeing his mother playing on a neverending loop in his mind, he was getting more and more irritable. It also seemed that the line for the restaurant was not moving at all.

"Nonno," he finally asked, "Can't we just go back to our room and have something later?"

But Rossi had been looking away from Spencer, and was obviously not used to be being addressed as Nonno, because he didn't answer. Spencer took his hand and tried to pull him out of the line. "Come on, let's just go back to our room and have something later."

"If we lose our place in line now, 'later' will probably mean sometime around four a.m.," Rossi replied, not letting Spencer move him.

"I can wait. I don't really feel like eating. Please, Nonno."

"I know we've been waiting a long time, but don't whine, Spencer."

"I'm not whining, I just don't see why I have to stand in line for something I don't even want!"

"Because I am responsible for you, and I am standing in line, and I am getting hungry. And I think you are hungry, too, you just don't realise it."

"I am not hungry!" If anything, the thought of having to eat made him feel vaguely sick. "Just give me the key and I'll go back to the room and I won't get into any trouble."

"Not happening, kiddo."

"Then take me up there, and I'll stay while you come back down and eat."

"No, Spencer, and I already asked you once to stop whining."

"And I said I'm not whining!" Spencer denied it even though he technically knew that he was.

"Yes, you are!" the teenaged girl from before broke in. "You sound just like my step-brother, only worse!"

"Amber, ignore him," the girl's mother said sharply.

"Here I thought I could get away from whiny little brats, and now I'm stuck next to one in a line that will never move until all our brains have exploded from your talking!"

Spencer responded in kind. "Well, I don't want to be stuck here, either, but Nonno won't let me go back to our room!"

"Here, honey," said the girl's mother, looking at Spencer while digging in her purse. "Would you like a piece of gum?"

"No, thank you, I don't like gum," Spencer snapped.

"I've got a Jolly Rancher here somewhere, I think." She found a candy and held it out.

"No." Spencer belatedly remembered to add a very ungrateful, "Thank you."

"Spencer, take it," Rossi told him firmly.

"You're not supposed to encourage me to take candy from strangers, _Nonno_!"

The girl grabbed the candy from her mother, tore it out of its wrapping, and tried to force it into Spencer's mouth. "Just suck on it and shut up – ow! He bit me!"

Spencer spit out the Jolly Rancher and used his sleeve to wipe the taste of the girl's fingers from his teeth and lips. When one of his teeth wiggled a little in its socket, he felt a distinct frisson of horror that it was loose. What if she'd knocked it out completely? Rossi said his name in a warning tone, and at the same time, the girl's mother was remarking, "Well, you shouldn't put your fingers in other people's mouths."

"Freak," the girl hissed, but even though that was an insult that Spencer could usually deal with, it hit him harder this time. His lower lip quivered.

Rossi crouched down to Spencer's eye level. "Would you like a hug? I think you're having a hard day, and you could use a hug right about now."

Spencer just nodded and reached out his his arms. As Rossi lifted him up and cuddled him close, Spencer could feel tears coming, but he tried his best to turn the feeling to anger so that he wouldn't cry yet again. Quietly, not wanting the girl to hear and complain again, he hissed, "I wish we hadn't gone swimming, and I wish we hadn't gone to see my mother, and I wish we'd never come here!"

"I'm starting to wish that, too," Rossi said with a sigh. Thankfully, just then, the line surged forward and they came within view of the restaurant entrance. "Do you think you can hang on until we get something to eat?"

"I want to go home," Spencer whispered. He meant back in his old apartment, with his familiar books and his couch and his own bed, but even being at Hotch's apartment would be enough. "I just want to go home."

"I know. And we're leaving to-morrow, we just have to get through to-day."

"I really hate being a kid, Rossi. I hate it that everybody's bigger than I am, and I'm not allowed to do anything by myself, and people can try to force-feed me candy that they've touched with their germy hands, and they won't let me use room service, and I can't even go to work without a supervisor … even though I really like Ally. It's just the principle of the thing." He tried to keep his voice low, and even glanced over his shoulder once to see if the girl were listening.

"I like Ally, too, but I can definitely see how you'd feel the way you do," Rossi said. He had started to rock Spencer a little, like he'd done on the bench, and the memory reminded Spencer of something else he disliked.

"I especially hate how little things make me cry all the time, because I really hate crying, too."

"What happened with your mother was not a little thing," Rossi told him. "And if you want to cry, go ahead."

"I don't want to cry! I hate crying!" Trying to distract himself, Spencer poked his tooth with his tongue, feeling it move.

"Yeah, Hotch mentioned that to me. But you're in the body of a child now, Spencer, and children cry. It's just a fact of life."

"Hotch talks to you about me?" That made Spencer feel even worse, and he heard himself getting louder because of it. It took a conscious effort for him to lower his voice again, in case the girl should try to stuff something else into his mouth. "Behind my back? About how much I cry?"

"Not about how much you cry, Spencer, just that you feel sensitive about it. And we don't talk behind your back, either, not in the way that you mean. We just talk about you the same way we talk about everybody in the team, especially if they're going through a rough patch. I gave Hotch regular updates on Emily's ankle while she was staying with me, for instance, and we've discussed how he's getting along while Jack is sick. We talked about how JJ was coping with Henry's arm, that sort of thing. And of course we talked about how it affected everybody on the team when we found out Emily was still alive."

"Oh." That was slightly more encouraging.

"But tell me, Spencer. Isn't there anything good about being a kid? Anything at all that you like? Tell me something fun that happened recently."

"JJ made me chocolate chip pancakes for my birthday," Spencer remembered. "And she took me out trick or treating and I got two books!"

"Books? For Halloween? Things have sure changed since I was a kid," Rossi said, smiling.

"It's a new thing," Spencer said. "Garcia looked it up for me. There's this fiction author called Neil Gaiman who came up with the idea of All Hallows Read, where you give scary books away for Halloween. It can be in addition to candy, or instead of it, or you can just give a book to somebody for fun. Mostly the books will be for children, of course, because who's going to expect somebody to come along hoping for a free copy of Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_?"

"Because nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Rossi teased, but Spencer just looked blankly at him until he said, "Sorry. I guess you've never heard of Monty Python."

"I've heard of them," Spencer said. "They did a skit about Spam that later inspired junk e-mails to be referred to as spam. Did you know that Spam was created in 1937, during the Great Depression —"

"Stop, Spencer, you're supposed to be telling me what's goood about being a kid again, not lecturing about Spam. I already know everything that I need to know about Spam." Rossi's expression conveyed exactly how he felt about Spam, too.

"Oh." Spencer worked to get his train of thought back on the right track again. "Well, um, being with Ally is mostly fun, especially when we play Run Past Ally Alligator, or Ping Pong Pals in the Pool."

"You'll have to explain those games to me, I've never heard of them."

Once Rossi got him talking, Spencer quietly kept going until they got a table and were able to hit the buffet for a very late lunch. Spencer's mood had brightened enough that he was actually able to eat, and Rossi had been correct, he'd been hungry without even realising it. They both went back to the hotel room feeling much better, and Spencer let Rossi persuade him to play a game of chess online, and even one of backgammon as well.

* * *

Do you guys think this story is too depressing? Does it feel like a slog to read and do you find yourselves thinking, "Oh, no, there go the waterworks again?" Or do you think there's enough humour to balance it all out? I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	14. Chapter 14

Just a short chapter this time, because the next one is so long and I didn't want to cut it. Thanks for reading and following and favouriting, everybody. :-)

* * *

27-28 November 2011

Spencer got back to Hotch's very late on Saturday evening, but was still awake enough to see that Hotch and Jack had brought a Christmas tree and decorated it while he'd been in Las Vegas. Hotch was apologetic about them not waiting for Spencer, since they hadn't known he'd be back so soon, but Spencer waved it off. He didn't really care about Christmas trees and never put one up in his apartment. The holiday usually just meant a quiet day off and a phone call to his mother. Anyway, Hotch and Jack needed time together without him.

On Sunday evening at supper time, Spencer took a bite of meat and stopped suddenly in mid-chew. Fighting the temptation to spit everything back onto his plate, he put his fingers in his mouth and felt around.

"Spencer, everything all right?" Hotch asked.

"My tooth came out!" Spencer said, holding it up as evidence, then laying it on the table next to his plate. He'd throw it away after supper.

"Cool!" Jack exclaimed. "That means the Tooth Fairy will come pick it up and give you some money!"

"The Tooth Fairy?" Spencer looked at him in surprise. Surely Jack didn't still believe?

Jack, however, thought he was expressing ignorance. "Haven't you ever heard of the Tooth Fairy, Spencer? You put your tooth under your pillow at night and the Tooth Fairy takes it away and leaves you some money for it. My first tooth fell out while I had the chicken pox, and I got seventy five cents for it!"

Glancing over to Hotch, who nodded seriously, Spencer remembered a certain day he'd had in kindergarten twenty five years earlier. After having seen a girl hold up a fifty cent piece for Show and Tell and explain how the Tooth Fairy had left it in exchange for her tooth, Spencer had snuck into the school library and done some research, discovering that the Tooth Fairy was only a legend. Any money that appeared under pillows in the night was put there by parents. One boy in particular had not been happy to hear Spencer's eager explanation and had hit him so hard that he'd knocked one of Spencer's teeth out. Fortunately, it had been a wiggly one that had almost been ready to come out anyway, so it had only bled a little bit.

"Paul tried to build a Tooth Fairy catcher out of Legos and a mouse trap," Jack went on. "But the Tooth Fairy just flew right over it, and when he woke up the next morning, the money was under his pillow, the tooth was gone, and the trap was still set!"

Spencer didn't know what to say to that, and wondered fleetingly what kind of Unsub Paul would grow up to become.

Hotch said, "I'm sure the Tooth Fairy is much too intelligent to get caught in traps, and it seems like a mean thing to do to somebody who is willing to give you money for something you don't need anymore."

"I think I'm getting another loose tooth," Jack said, opening his mouth to show them as he poked at his lower teeth with his tongue. "And wouldn't it be cool to see the Tooth Fairy? See if it's a boy or a girl fairy, see what colour its wings are, see how big it is?"

"Getting caught in a trap would hurt the Tooth Fairy, so it might not want to leave you any money, and it definitely wouldn't come back another time," Hotch told him.

"Well … do you think the Tooth Fairy would stay overnight if I built a little guest room out of Legos for it?" Jack asked. "I could get a pillow for it to lay on, put out some cookies for it to eat while it's waiting for us to wake up …"

"No, I think the Tooth Fairy has lots of kids to visit every night, and wouldn't get its work done if it stayed here," Hotch replied. "You don't want the Tooth Fairy to get a reprimand from its boss, do you?"

"I guess not," Jack said, disappointed. "But it would still be cool to meet one."

"How about if you draw a picture of the Tooth Fairy after supper?" Hotch suggested. "And think about what it does with all the teeth it collects?"

"Okay," Jack agreed, and then he turned to Spencer. "But you're putting your tooth under your pillow, right? And then we can go to the store on Saturday and you can spend your tooth money however you want!"

"Yeah," Spencer said.

That night, Spencer woke up after a dream that included his mother. He was crying, but apparently softly enough that neither Jack nor Hotch had noticed. Just in case they did, though, Spencer bunched the covers up around his mouth to muffle the sound, and tried to stop as soon as possible. Eventually, he managed, but although he told himself he should be proud of having taken care of the nightmare by himself, it wasn't as nice as having someone else there to hold him and say all the right things. He also didn't feel safe enough to want to go to sleep again right away. What if the dream came back?

Out of sheer curiosity, Spencer looked under his pillow where Jack had insisted he deposit his tooth, and found three quarters there instead. Hotch must have come in earlier while he was still asleep. Spencer left the money there for Jack to see in the morning, and looked around for something else to take his mind off bad dreams. They'd gone to the library that afternoon, and he hadn't read all his books yet, so he got out of bed and walked quietly over to where they were stacked on his chest of drawers.

He was still reading when he heard Hotch's alarm go off. Guiltily, he closed the book and hid it under the covers, then took off his glasses and hid them, too. Laying his head on the pillow, he closed his eyes and tried to look as though he were asleep. When Hotch came in and turned on the overhead light, however, he couldn't help opening his eyes.

"You're up early," Hotch said, reaching up to shake Jack. "Did the Tooth Fairy wake you up?"

"The Tooth Fairy?" Jack shot upright, then clambered over the guardrail, jumping straight to the floor. "How much money did you get, Spencer?"

Spencer lifted the pillow away to reveal the coins.

"Cool!" Jack cheered. "What are you going to buy?"

"I don't know," Spencer said, yawning.

"If you buy taffy, it might pull out more teeth while you're chewing," Jack suggested. "Dad, can we buy taffy on Saturday?"

"Taffy tastes good, but it sticks to my teeth," Spencer said as he got up.

"Well, duh, that's why we should get some! If it sticks hard enough, it can pull your teeth right out!" Jack explained enthusiastically. "Then you can get more money!"

Spencer yawned again and saw that Hotch was giving him a concerned look. In an attempt to belay suspicion, he smiled and said, "Thank you, Tooth Fairy."

Jack said, "That was too quiet, Spencer, I don't think the Tooth Fairy could hear you. Maybe you should shout! Maybe we can shout together!"

He opened his mouth wide, expecting Spencer to join in, but Hotch was faster. "I'm sure the Tooth Fairy heard it in the same way that it hears whenever a tooth is under your pillow, and shouting is not necessary."

Breakfast helped revive Spencer somewhat, but he had to pinch himself twice in the car to keep from falling asleep on the way to work. Why hadn't he thought about the unfortunate side effects of staying up all right reading to keep the nightmare from coming back? As he sat down at his desk and opened the first file, he wiggled his feet to keep himself awake …

"Spencer!"

Something was jostling his shoulder. Spencer lifted his head from his desk and looked groggily around. Hotch was standing there, ready to shake him again, and regarding him with a concerned expression. Was it time to go home already? Had he been out the entire day? He saw Ally standing nearby, watching him with the same concerned expression, and quickly checked his watch. No, it was only break time, but that still meant he'd slept half the morning! Never mind the Tooth Fairy getting a reprimand from its boss, Spencer would definitely be getting one from his!

"My office, Spencer," Hotch said.

Spencer followed him up the stairs, keeping his head down, and they went into Hotch's office.

Hotch closed the door and sat down on the couch. After a moment, Spencer climbed up next to him, still staring down at his legs.

"What's going on, Spencer?" he asked.

Spencer sighed. "I woke up early and I started reading and I guess I lost track of time. I'm sorry."

"Why did you wake up early?"

"I, um, had a nightmare."

"You've had nightmares before, and you've always gone back to sleep afterwards. What was different about this one?"

"Um … it was about my mom. Well, kind of."

"Do you want a hug while you talk about it?"

"Yeah."

Hotch settled him in his lap and Spencer leaned against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of warm, strong arms giving him a sense of safety and security. "So, um, I didn't tell you what happened when I visited my mom."

"It must have been bad or you wouldn't have come home early," Hotch said. "I didn't ask because Jack was always there, but you can tell me about it now, if you want."

"I really thought I could convince her," Spencer said slowly. "I thought she would just look at me and know … but she didn't. She didn't even want to recognise me. She said I was a robot or a life model decoy that the government wanted to use to spy on her – she said she'd poke my cameras out."

"Did she attack you?" Hotch sounded concerned.

"Not really. Sort of. They caught her before – before she could –" Spencer stopped. "Last night I dreamed I really was a robot, and I really was sent to spy on her, but because she didn't accept me, I was useless. They wanted to send me away because I couldn't do my job, and I'd be all alone in the robot warehouse. And I was so sad that I woke up."

He didn't mention the crying, but he also realised he'd looked away involuntarily at the end of his sentence. Hotch would be able to tell he'd left something out.

"I didn't hear you, or I would have come in," Hotch said. "If that happens again, you can come to me, though."

"I didn't want you to come in," Spencer admitted. "I was trying to be quiet and handle it by myself, but I was scared the dream would come back, so I started reading."

"Spencer … " Hotch said, then stopped. After a long moment, he said, "I appreciate that you were trying to deal with it by yourself. But I also think there's a part of you that needs some outside help. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me help you, if you'd let me come in and reassure you that nobody is going to abandon you, especially not me."

"Okay," Spencer said, surprising himself with the speed at which he'd answered. Hotch was right, there was a part of him that really, really needed that reassurance. Maybe part of the reason he'd stayed awake in the night was because he'd been trying to get by without a hug and soft, soothing words of comfort.

"I know I'm not your mother," Hotch said after a long moment. "But I'm here for you, Spencer. Don't ever think you're inconvenient or a burden to me. As the song says, I'm happy to be stuck with you."

"What song?" Spencer asked, and when Hotch looked disbelievingly at him, he said, "Sorry, never mind. But thanks. I'm happy to be stuck with you, too."


	15. Chapter 15

28 November 2011

It was snowing when Ally led Spencer outside for their break.

"Let's build a snowman," she said. "You roll up a big snowball and I'll look for something we can use for eyes and a nose."

Spencer took a handful of snow and packed it into a ball, then put it onto a fresh patch and began to roll it along, stopping every so often to press more snow into the sides. It got bigger and bigger, and harder to push, and he was just about to ask Ally for help when a man appeared from behind a tree, pointing a gun at him. Automatically, Spencer put his hands in the air.

"Are you Dr Spencer Reid?" the man asked.

"Y-yes," Spencer stammered. His mouth had gone suddenly dry and his heart had started to hammer in his chest.

"SHIELD is taking you into custody. Kneel down."

"What? Why?"

"Because I said so! Now kneel down!"

Spencer dropped to his knees in the snow,and as the man put his gun away and came around behind him, he asked, "No, I meant, why is SHIELD taking me into custody? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Those are my orders." The man fastened a handcuff around Spencer's right wrist, between the edge of his glove and the sleeve of his coat, then pulled both of his arms behind his back and clicked the cuff around his left wrist. At the feeling of being restrained, Spencer felt fear creeping slowly up on him. The agent lifted Spencer up, placed him on his feet, then frisked him, reaching up under Spencer's coat to check for hidden weapons. It almost would have tickled if Spencer hadn't been so tense. Finding Spencer's phone, the agent wriggled it out of Spencer's jeans and pocketed it, then said, "Come on."

He kept a hand on Spencer's upper arm, guiding him to the road, where a black SUV with SHIELD markings was parked. Another agent was loading Ally in the back seat behind the driver, and the first agent opened the door on the passenger side. Spencer was surprised to see they'd come equipped with a child safety seat for him, and the agent even uncuffed his hands long enough to get him into it.

"What's going on?" Ally asked. "Why have you taken Dr Reid as well?"

"From now on, we ask the questions, so just shut up," the other agent said, slamming the door on her. The first agent cuffed Spencer's hands in front, effectively trapping him in the seatbelt, then got into the front seat. Not daring to say anything else, Spencer looked over at Ally and saw that she was just as bewildered and worried as he was. He felt guiltily relieved to have her next to him, he didn't want to have to go through this alone.

They drove into D.C. and by craning his neck, Spencer was able to identify SHIELD headquarters before they drove into underground parking. Once inside the building, they were taken to different interrogation rooms. Spencer's agent let him take off his hat, coat, and gloves before cuffing his right hand to the ring under the table. The man glanced down at the sweatshirt Spencer was wearing, the one with the glow-in-the-dark dinosaur, and said, "My daughter's got that same shirt," then went out.

It seemed like Spencer sat there forever, trying to control his fear. Had SHIELD contacted Hotch or anybody else in the BAU? Did anybody even know he was here? He distinctly remembered the other agent who had come with Dr Kapoor mentioning that SHIELD would take them into custody before prosecution, but he hadn't done anything wrong! He'd never spoken to anybody about the project name or password, not Ally, not even Hotch If only somebody would come in and interrogate him so he could tell them the truth and clear up this big misunderstanding.

At long last the door opened and a man in a dark suit and tie came in. He could have been anybody from the FBI or any other agency.

"Dr Reid," he said. "I'm Agent Podleski. Can I get you anything to drink before we start the interview?"

But the thought of liquid made a certain situation just that little bit worse, and Spencer blurted out, "I have to go to the bathroom!"

"I should have thought of that," Podleski said, giving a half smile, then he reached down and undid the handcuff. "All right, come on."

The bathroom was down the hall, and of course the urinals were too high for Spencer to use, so he had to go into a stall. Podleski remained next to the exit, probably following standard operating procedure, and silently watched him wash and dry his hands. Finally, he escorted Spencer back to the interrogation room. Spencer sat down, expecting the agent to cuff him again, but Podleski merely went around to the other side of the table and sank down onto one of the chairs there.

"Do you want anything to drink now?" he asked.

"Am I under arrest? Because nobody's read me my rights," Spencer said, glancing up at the camera in the corner of the room.

"You're not under arrest, and the only right that you have at this moment is to know that SHIELD is allowed to hold you for twenty four hours under suspicion of breaking confidentiality before we make a decision about whether to charge you or let you go."

"Is that why I'm here? Breaking confidentiality? Because I haven't, and I also have not violated my non-disclosure agreement," Spencer told him.

"That's what we're here to find out," Agent Podleski said, then suddenly asked, "Do you know a man named Raphael Johnson?"

The name Raphael sent a jolt of fear through Spencer and he jerked involuntarily, only then realising that Podleski meant someone else. After a moment, he managed to squeak, "No."

"The name isn't familiar to you?" Podleski went on, watching him carefully.

"No," Spencer replied, regaining some of his composure, but he already knew it looked bad.

"You've never spoken to anybody named Raphael Johnson?"

The second pronunciation of the name gave Spencer a slightly lesser shock. "No."

"Agent Alleluia Johnson has two brothers. You might not know them by name, but have you ever spoken to either of them?"

Ally's other brother was named Raphael? That would fit with her name and the name of her other brother Gabriel. Spncer relaxed slightly. "No, I've never spoken to either of them. Did something hap – ?"

Podleski interrupted, "Did Agent Johnson ever mention her brothers to you?"

"She spoke to me once about her brother Gabriel."

"What did she tell you?"

"She said that he had Stage 4 prostate cancer, that he is thirty six years old, that he has a wife and three children under the age of ten."

"And why did she tell you this?"

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling that they were getting closer to the mystery of why he and Ally had been taken into SHIELD custody. "Agent Johnson asked me about the de-aging machine. She was wondering if –"

"You told her about the machine?" Podleski broke in.

"Agent Hotchner and I had already mentioned the de-aging machine when we asked her to be my supervisor at work." Spencer started to explain. "She asked about it again when she discovered that her brother Gabriel had been diagnosed with cancer."

"What exactly did you tell her?"

Spencer concentrated on the knot of Podleski's tie, then repeated verbatim the entire conversation he'd had with Ally. When he'd finished, Podleski stared silently at him for a moment, but if he'd heard about Spencer's memory, he didn't admit it.

"So you gave Agent Johnson a contact number for Dr Kapoor," he finally said.

"Agent Hotchner did, yes," Spencer agreed, hoping he wasn't getting his boss into trouble.

"And was that the only time you spoke to Agent Johnson about the de-aging machine?"

"A few days later, I also told her that Agent Hotchner and I had spoken to Dr Kapoor and that SHIELD was not letting anybody else go through the machine. Is that what happened? Did Gabriel Johnson –"

"Tell me exactly what you said," Podleski said, not letting Spencer finish his question, and when Spencer had done so, Podleski asked, "While you were sick? What do you mean, sick?"

Spencer explained about the norovirus, and about Hotch calling Dr Kapoor. "And that was the last time that I mentioned anything about de-aging to Agent Johnson."

"What about to her brothers?"

Recognising the trap, Spencer avoided it. "I never spoke to her brothers."

"But you talked to Agent Johnson about them?"

"I've already told you what Agent Johnson said to me about her brother Gabriel. I can repeat it if you like. I asked her once if she had other brothers besides Gabriel, and she said yes, she had one. She didn't tell me his name, and she never mentioned him again."

"Raphael Johnson!" Podleski suddenly shouted, and when Spencer twitched visibly again, Podleski demanded, "Why do you keep reacting to that name?"

"Because I was once abducted and tortured by a man with dissociative identity disorder, and one of his personalities was named Raphael," Spencer said, wincing as he heard his voice squeak and shake even though he was trying to keep it calm and professional. "It was about five years ago, and it has nothing to do with Raphael Johnson."

"Five years," Podleski said. "And yet, despite you obviously suffering from PTSD to the point of having a panic attack at the very mention of that name, you have continued to work in the BAU for that entire time? Makes me wonder about your sanity!"

"I'm not having a panic attack, and my reaction to the names only started after I was de-aged," Spencer explained, glad that his voice was sounding firmer and more confident now. "If you want confirmation of this, feel free to ask Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"Oh, we're asking him," Podleski said, and Spencer's heart sank. Podleski went on. "Now – you said names. What other names are you reacting to? The name Gabriel, for instance?"

"No," Spencer said, but did not elaborate. Podleski was obviously able to see his lack of reaction.

"What other names?" Podleski demanded.

"Those names have nothing to do with Raphael Johnson, so you don't need to know them," Spencer said.

"I'll decide what I need to know!" Podleski shouted. "Tell me the other names!"

Spencer took a deep breath in an attempt to remain calm, and repeated, "Those names have nothing to do with Raphael Johnson."

Podleski asked him several more times, getting the same answer even though Spencer was starting to get upset and fighting to control it. Finally, Podleski made a show of giving up. "All right, then let's start over. Aside from Agent Johnson, who else have you spoken to about the de-aging machine?"

"My team, obviously, because they were there when it happened. Dr Kapoor and his team at the SHIELD research facility in Rockingham County. Section Chief Erin Strauss." Spencer skipped over Lars Henriksen because he hadn't actually spoken to the man about the machine, only about chickenpox. "Dr Rebecca Jesson at Bennington Sanitarium –"

"And who is this Rebecca Jesson?"

After Spencer had explained about her and his mother, Podleski brought the conversation back to Agent Johnson's family again, and again, and again. And Spencer answered his questions again, and again, and again. Eventually, the door opened and another SHIELD agent called Podleski out. Alone, Spencer slumped back in his chair in relief.

He was trying to use the few clues Podleski had given him to piece together what must have happened when the door opened again and a female agent came in, carrying a bag from a fast food restaurant.

"Hi, Dr Reid, you must be hungry."

"Thanks," Spencer said as he opened the bag. He ate slowly, because even though he knew he hadn't broken any confidentiality or violated his non-disclosure agreement, worry was still killing his appetite. He was listlessly using a French fry to draw patterns in a smear of ketchup when Podleski came back in.

"You finished?" he asked.

"Yeah," Spencer said.

Podleski came over to the table, removed the handcuffs from where they were still dangling from the ring under the table, and put them around Spencer's wrists again. Gathering up Spencer's hat and mittens, he stuffed them into the hood of Spencer's coat, then pushed the bundle into Spencer's arms for him to carry. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Spencer asked

"To the cells," Podleski replied. They went down two levels in an elevator and emerged in a corridor that stretched far, far ahead of them, thick metal doors at regular intervals on each side. They had to go down twenty seven of them before Podleski stopped and used his badge to open one.

"You'll be spending the night here, so make yourself comfortable," he said. Spencer stepped in and looked around. There was a blanket and a mattress on a metal frame, a toilet, and a sink, nothing else.

"Give me your hands," Podleski said, and Spencer extended his arms, coat and all. Podleski removed the coat and tossed it onto the bunk, then unlocked the handcuffs and went out. Spencer watched the door slam closed and heard the lock engage.

After an eternity, supper arrived; a chicken and cheese sandwich on wheat bread, a sliced apple turning brown, a mini bran muffin, and a juice box, haphazardly arranged on a flimsy paper plate. Half an hour after that, the agent came around to pick up the garbage, and aside from those two visits, it was eerily silent in the cellblock. Spencer tapped on the wall, but it was thick cement, and did not let noise pass through. He sat crosslegged on the bunk, staring at the opposite wall, and chose to repeat The Noble Tale of Sir Launcelot du Lake in his mind, silently reciting it while remembering his mother reading it aloud.

Without warning, the lights went out with a loud click, and Spencer screamed, first in surprise and then in panic. Even when he looked in the direction where he thought the door must be, there was not a single sliver of light; everything was sheer darkness, everywhere. A moment later, he thought to check his pocket, but his phone was gone, and he remembered that the agent had taken it.

"Turn the lights on, turn the lights on!" he shouted, otherwise paralysed by terror. "Please, somebody, I need some light! Turn the lights on! Don't leave me here in the dark!"

The lights stayed off, nobody answered, nobody even banged on his door to tell him to shut up. Spencer lowered his head, then screeched again when he caught sight of something fluorescent that appeared to be undulating across his chest. He was at SHIELD, after all, it could be _anything_! After a moment of beating frantically at his ribs, however, he realised it was his glow-in-the-dark dinosaur, stopped screaming, and burst into tears instead.

Spencer didn't know how long he sat there, sobbing in fear, staring down at the bluish-white sketch, and trying to smooth his sweatshirt so that he could see the entire dinosaur at once, but eventually, no more tears came and fatigue set in instead. He lay down on his side, but then his arm covered most of the glow, so he sat back up again. As he did so, his foot made something rustle at the end of the bunk, and he remembered his coat. Quickly, he reached over to find it, patting carefully along the blanket until his fingers felt the different material.

Once he had his coat at his side, Spencer pulled the pullover off and folded the sleeves back so that the dinosaur was completely visible. It didn't really give off light and he couldn't see by the glow, but it was enough to comfort him. Putting the sweatshirt next to him on the bunk, Spencer slipped into his coat and zipped it up, then pulled the blanket up to his armpits. His hat and mittens made a little pillow, and he lay down again, refolding his pullover and using the sleeves to prop it up so that he could see most of it without lifting his head.

Spencer slept badly that night, dreaming of shadowy things creeping around in the dark and waking up to find that the reality was almost as bad. Each time, he looked over to his glow-in-the-dark dinosaur, and even found himself reaching out and tracing his finger just below the luminous lines for comfort. By the morning, he had named it Bone-Apart, and when the lights came back on, and he was exchanging his coat for his sweatshirt, he imagined Boney giving his chest a little hug with its forelegs and long tail.

Soon after breakfast, Podleski came for Spencer again, accompanying him to the interrogation room and asking him all the same questions he'd asked the day before. Spencer felt irritated and impatient, but tried hard to keep his temper while repeating the same answers. Finally, close to the twenty four hour limit, Podleski stood up and went out, then came back in about five minutes later.

"Okay, Dr Reid, you're free to go now," he announced, and laid Spencer's phone on the table. Once Spencer had stuffed it back into his jeans, Podleski walked him out to the lobby of the building. Ally was already there, standing tensely and staring at a potted plant without seeing it. She was also dressed in yesterday's clothes and her expression was much more serious than Spencer had ever seen.

"Wait here, and an agent will drive you all back to Quantico together," Podleski said, and walked off before Spencer could ask who else he meant.

Spencer went over to Ally. "Are you all right?"

"Hey, Sprout," she replied dully, but didn't answer the question.

Spencer looked up at her in concern. "What happened?"

Instead of answering, Ally glanced behind him, and when Spencer followed her gaze, he cried out, "Hotch!"

Hotch caught him as he ran over, lifting him up for a big hug. "Spencer! Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine." Away from the darkness of the cells and the stress of the interrogation room, he was fine. "Did they take anybody else into custody, anybody from our team?"

"No, just me and you and Johnson." Hotch put him down, then looked over at Ally. "You okay, Johnson?"

Ally looked at Hotch without responding, then looked away again. An SUV pulled up outside and a young female agent came in, looking directly at Spencer in wide-eyed wonder. "Dr … Spencer Reid?"

"Yes," he said, and she looked beyond him to the adults. "Agent Hotchner, Agent Johnson? I'm supposed to drive you to Quantico."

She held the back door open for Spencer, and struggled with the straps of the child safety seat until Spencer said, "I've got this," and did it for her. Smiling a little in embarrassment, the woman went around to the driver's seat, and soon they were on their way. After the darkness of the cell at night, Spencer had never felt so happy to see the low winter sun in his life.

"Hotch, did they tell you why they took us into custody?" Spencer aksed.

"They didn't give me any details," Hotch said. "What about you, Ally?"

"I'd rather discuss it privately," Ally said slowly. She had her hands in her lap and started to massage her right hand with her left.

"I'll call Morgan, tell him we're on our way back," Hotch said, and took out his phone, but after he'd ended the conversation, he said, "The team flew to Fort Wayne, Indiana yesterday."

"What kind of case?" Spencer asked.

"Could be an angel of death," Hotch said.

Ally made a slight noise that sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a sob that was abruptly cut off, and when Spencer looked, he saw that she had turned away to the window. Her hands were motionless in her lap; instead of massaging, she was now gripping her right hand tightly with her left. Hotch changed the subject. "We need to check in with Strauss when we get back."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, and once they were back in the BAU, Hotch herded them both in the direction of his office. As though she had been watching for them, however, Strauss intercepted them on the way, and they went to the round table conference room instead. Once they were all seated, Strauss said, "Well, Aaron, it's not every day that SHIELD takes some of our agents into custody. What happened?"

"SHIELD didn't exactly share any details with me, but from what I understand, there was an incident with the de-aging machine," Hotch said. "Johnson, can you tell us anything about what happened and why we were questioned?"

"Yes, sir," she replied quietly, and then, staring straight ahead and using a calm voice stripped of emotion, she said, "My brother Gabriel was recently diagnosed with Stage 4 prostrate cancer. And my other brother Raphael tried to tandem-parachute him into the site, to put him into the machine and make him younger so that the doctors could catch the cancer earlier and keep him alive."

"Well, that would be a good use for the machine," Strauss announced. "A lot of people could benefit from that."

"They'd have to build a lot of them," Spencer mused. "They'd have to become more common than x-ray machines in order to benefit everybody. And that would cost –"

"Spencer," Hotch interrupted him firmly, then softened his voice a little. "Johnson? What happened next?"

"It seems they landed on the roof and fell off, and naturally, the guards heard it, so … they … got caught," Ally continued, successfully keeping expression out of her voice until the end. She took another breath and managed to regain control over her emotions. "I don't know how Raphael found out where the de-aging machine was, but he always could connect with anybody to get anything he wanted. I never mentioned the machine to Gabriel, or anybody else in my family, so it wasn't because of me. I hadn't even spoken to Raphael since I got shot – we were never as close as he was to Gabriel, I was busy with therapy, and he was off living his exciting life in the skies. I told SHIELD that if anybody had said anything, it must have been Cousin Joe."

"Joe? From the dining hall?" Spencer asked. "Of course! He would have heard the rumours even there."

Strauss didn't say anything, just made a gesture for Ally to carry on with the rest of the report.

"He's always worshipped the ground Raphael walked on. Raphael even took him sky-diving for free a few times," Ally said. "And Raphael could be an idiot sometimes, but he … would have done anything for Gabriel."

Spencer noticed the use of the past tense, but Hotch was already asking, "What happened to your brothers?"

"Raphael tried to force his way in," Ally reported, her voice even, but tightening the grip of her left hand. "He was killed."

"Ally, I'm so sorry," Spencer said quietly, but Ally did not acknowledge him.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Strauss said, but her voice was more business-like than consoling.

After an appropriate pause, Hotch prompted, "And your other brother? Gabriel?"

"Gabriel surrendered, but SHIELD told me he was wounded. They wouldn't tell me how badly, or whether his wife and children would be allowed to visit him." Emotion was becoming audible in her voice, especially when she said 'wife and children.' Shakily, Ally went on. "We were hoping he'd live until after Christmas, but now … And I don't know if SHIELD has informed Raphael's girlfriend, or if I have to do that …"

"I'm so very sorry," Hotch said. He got up and lifted a box of tissues from one of the shelves along the inside wall of the conference room, then slid it towards her. Ally took one, dabbing at her eyes, and stifled a sob. Eventually, she lifted her head and gazed directly at him.

"Agent Hotchner," she said, her voice shaking a little. "I apologise for the inconvenience ..."

"There's nothing to apologise for," Hotch said.

"But … I … won't be coming back," Ally stated, and her voice wavered again. She did not turn her gaze from Hotch as she continued, "I don't blame … Dr Reid .. but in a way, it's his fault … I can't work with … I'm sorry!"

The last words came out as a wail as Ally jumped up and stumbled out of the room. Spencer stared after her, only belatedly realising he should probably follow and apologise for the whole situation.

"It's not your fault," Hotch said to Spencer. "You can't blame yourself."

"I don't," Spencer said sadly. "I just feel bad for her."

"This is very regrettable," Strauss agreed.

"If word of this gets out, there might be other, similar incidents," Hotch mused, and looked like he was about to say more. Just then, however, there was the sound of a cell phone ringtone. Strauss pulled her phone from her pocket, and after she'd listened for a moment, she looked from Spencer to Hotch. "May I have the room, please?"

Hotch went into his office, and Spencer went down to his desk, finding a few new files there, on top of the old ones. As he went through them, he was vaguely aware of Strauss going in to talk to Hotch, then leaving the bullpen completely.

"Spencer," Hotch said, and Spencer glanced up.

"It's past lunchtime," Hotch said, "and since Johnson isn't here, I thought we could go get Chinese."

"Chinese sounds good," Spencer said. "Ally would have taken me to the dining hall and made me eat something super healthy."

Then it really hit him; Ally wasn't there, and she wouldn't be coming back. Slumping a little, he added, "I miss her already."

"We'll pick something up and take it home," Hotch went on. "Strauss has given us the rest of the day off."

"Why?" Spencer asked, and then something occurred to him. "Is she suspending me because Ally's not here to supervise me anymore?"

"No," said Hotch. "No, she's not suspending you, Spencer. Come on, get your things and let's go eat. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry for something good after what I got at SHIELD."

Spencer was hungry, too, but something about this seemed off. "Hotch, what's going on?"

Hotch hesitated, then said, "I won't lie to you, Spencer, so I won't tell you that nothing's going on, but I would prefer to wait until we get home before we discuss it."

"It's bad, isn't it?" Spencer asked, but Hotch didn't answer, just looked at him, keeping his micro-expressions carefully neutral.

It was very, very bad, Spencer thought. Getting his things, he followed Hotch silently to the car, and worried all the way to the restaurant. It had to be something to do with SHIELD, and probably with the de-aging machine itself. And not just that, but most likely the whole project, too. By the time they got to Hotch's apartment, Spencer was fairly sure he had a good idea about what his boss was going to say.

Hotch made him wait until they'd unpacked the Chinese food and even tried to make him eat something, but Spencer refused. Finally, Hotch said, "Strauss got a call from SHIELD. The de-aging machine – the entire house, actually – has been destroyed. A group calling themselves Raphael's Avenging Angels has taken responsibility, and SHIELD has put out a statement that Dr Sakenfeld was killed in the attack and all his research obliterated. There will be no more work done on Project Mustardseed."

"Raphael's Avenging Angels?" Spencer asked. "At the risk of sounding like my mother, this smells suspiciously like a government conspiracy."

"It probably is," Hotch said. "But the phone call that Strauss got from SHIELD was quite adamant that Project Mustardseed has now been cancelled."

"If the de-aging machine has been destroyed, then it's not economically feasible to continue work on the project for just one person," Spencer said, nodding.

He took a bite of fried noodles, and when Hotch hadn't responded by the time he'd finished swallowing, Spencer asked, "Are you waiting for me to start crying? Is that why you didn't want to tell me until we'd got home?"

Hotch gave him a slightly sheepish smile. "You're taking this better than I expected."

"It's because, deep down, I don't really believe it," Spencer admitted. "I mean, yes, I trust that you are telling me the truth as you've heard it, and Strauss, too, but when it comes to SHIELD, no. It's been more than two months, Hotch, and even SHIELD wouldn't have left all of Sakenfeld's research in one place. Even if that site in Ohio was destroyed, and the de-aging machine with it, they would have back-up files somewhere. Also, if they were working on the re-aging part, they wouldn't do it in the house that Sakenfeld bought out in the middle of nowhere, they'd want it closer to, if not directly in, a SHIELD facility. I think SHIELD is spreading disinformation again in an attempt to keep more people from doing what Raphael Johnson did. Remember how they started those alien rumours? Dr Sakenfeld might not even be dead, and the project might have been given a new name."

"I've been considering that possibility, too," Hotch said, finally digging into his own meal. "Let's hope you're right."

"I haven't seen Sakenfeld's body," Spencer said, and Hotch smiled for real.


	16. Chapter 16

That evening at bedtime, Spencer took off his sweatshirt and put it in the dirty clothes basket with the rest of his clothes. Then, exhausted after his miserable night in the cell, he pulled on his pyjamas and got into bed. The bedroom was illuminated by his usual nightlight, and Jack had also convinced Hotch to let him hang up a string of Christmas lights on the bunk bed. It should have been more than enough for Spencer, but he still didn't want to close his eyes, because something was missing. After a long moment of deliberation, he got up again and retrieved the sweatshirt, folding it so that Boney was visible, then put it next to his pillow. Comforted, Spencer fell asleep, but the next thing he knew, he was screaming, not just from a nightmare, but also because he could no longer see his dinosaur.

"Boney!" he screeched, lifting up his pillow. "Hotch, Boney's gone! Hotch!"

"Spencer? Did you have a bad dream?" Hotch came in and sat down on the side of the mattress, ready to hug, but Spencer ignored his outstretched arms and wriggled out of bed to look underneath.

"Boney's gone!" Spencer cried. "I have to find him, I can't sleep without Boney!"

"Who's Boney?" Hotch asked.

"My dinosaur! On my sweatshirt! I put him next to my pillow and now he's gone and I can't get back to sleep without him."

"You mean that sweatshirt with the dinosaur that glows in the dark?"

"Yes!" Spencer gave Hotch a little push. "Are you sitting on him? Maybe he got tangled up in the covers."

Hotch stood up and went to the dirty clothes basket, then held something up. "This one?"

"Boney!" Spencer ran over and grabbed it, hugging it close as relief washed over him.

"I found it on the floor when I was putting Jack to bed, and thought you'd forgot to put it into the basket," Hotch said.

"No, I put him next to my pillow so I could sleep," Spencer explained. Now that the crisis was over, he was starting to feel embarrassed, but that didn't prevent him from clutching the sweatshirt to his chest even as he lifted one arm to Hotch for a hug.

"You named the dinosaur Boney?" Hotch lifted him up, then carried him over to the bed. Once there, Spencer arranged the sweatshirt on the other side of his pillow next to the wall, where it hopefully wouldn't fall down again.

"Bone-Apart," Spencer said, enunciating it clearly so Hotch didn't mistake it for Bonaparte. "Boney for short. It was really dark in that cell at SHIELD and, uh, he was glowing."

"I understand," Hotch said, pulling up the covers and tucking Spencer in. "Do you think you can go back to sleep now?"

"Yes."

"Then good night, Spencer. Good night, Boney."

"Hotch!" Spencer squirmed in embarrassment, but Hotch just grinned and went out.

* * *

30 November 2011

The next day as they drove to work, Hotch said, "We have to find a new supervisor for you now that Johnson's gone."

"I can supervise myself at work," Spencer said. "I can take breaks at all the right times, and go outside and play in the snow. I'll set my phone alarm, just like Ally did with her watch."

"Strauss might let that go for a day or two, considering what happened," Hotch said. "Just let me know whenever you leave the building for a break, and I can take you to lunch. We will have to find somebody new eventually, though."

Garcia hadn't gone with the others to Indiana, and when she arrived at the bullpen, Spencer caught her right in front of her office. "Hi, Garcia."

"Spencer! Oh, my G-d, I heard about the de-aging machine getting blown up and the project being cancelled! I'm so sorry!"

"Where'd you hear that?" Spencer asked, genuinely curious.

"Kevin," she replied, putting her things down on her desk and rearranging some of her toys to make room. "And he heard it from someone in his department. You know how word gets around. But you must be devastated! I know I would be, if I had to grow up again, especially without my parents."

"Um, yeah," Spencer said. He didn't want everybody in the FBI to know that he believed it was all a conspiracy, so he just said, "I miss my mom, but Hotch is a pretty good guardian."

"Yeah, if I had to be a kid again, I'd want Hotch to be my substitute father, too," Garcia agreed, sitting down and turning her chair to face him. "Which probably sounds a lot creepier than I meant it."

"It didn't sound creepy to me," Spencer said, because he knew exactly what she meant. "And speaking of guardians, Garcia, I need a new supervisor now that Ally's not here anymore. Can you check to see who's on medical leave?"

"I can do all that and more," Garcia said, spinning back to her keyboard and starting to type. Just then, her official phone rang, and she pressed the button. "Penelope Garcia is here to take your request!"

She listened, and although Spencer could hear a voice through her headset, he couldn't make out words. After a moment, Garcia said, "You do understand that this wouldn't be a transfer to the BAU? It would be actual baby-sitting, except the baby is an agent, so it's more like agent-sitting, and sitting would be the precise word here. The job would literally be sitting around the entire day."

Was somebody actually calling about the position? Spencer tried to get closer to hear better, but Garcia said, "Thank you for your interest, but don't quit your day job!"

"Who was that?" he asked as Garcia hung up.

"It doesn't matter," Garcia told him. "Keeping an eye on you is not an internship to the BAU. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, medical leave. There's lots of flu going around … one agent has chickenpox, can you believe it at his age? Here's a broken leg, oh, wheelchair … agent in the hospital after a car crash … this isn't looking good, Spencer."

"Maybe that person who just called up could be a temporary solution until we find somebody else?" Spencer suggested.

"I don't think so," Garcia replied. "She sounded too ambitious, and not in a good way. I could see her neglecting you while trying too hard to impress Hotch."

"And there's nothing else?"

"Not at the moment. Sorry, my half-pint hero."

"Well, thanks anyway, Garcia. I'd better get to work now."

"I'll keep an eye out!" she called after him.

Spencer kept his word to Hotch and, when his alarm told him it was breaktime, he notified his boss he was going outside. The sun wasn't shining that day, and the little park area around the BAU building felt oppressively lonely. Although he found the place where he'd wanted to build a snowman earlier that week, Spencer felt such a pang of loss for Ally's friendship that he had no desire to continue construction, or even do much of anything except walk morosely around until it was time to go back in.

Spencer set his next alarm for lunchtime, and when it beeped, he had to go up and remind Hotch to stop work. Hotch glanced up and said, "I just have to finish this quickly."

Frowning, Spencer went around to the side of the desk and made a grab for Hotch's pen, like Ally would have, but Hotch pulled it out of reach and shot him an annoyed look. "It'll just take a minute, Spencer."

"When I tried that, you made me stop work half an hour earlier the next day," Spencer remarked.

"I know," Hotch said. "But I'm older than you are, and I have more seniority."

Spencer sighed and said, "I'm going to go see if there's a book in Rossi's office that I haven't read yet."

But Hotch came to pick him up before he'd finished checking all the titles, and they went to the elevator. In the dining hall, there was no little table reserved for them, so Spencer and Hotch had to squeeze in at one end of a larger table otherwise occupied. While they were sitting there, a young female agent came up and asked, "Agent Hotchner? Dr Reid?"

Hotch looked up. "Yes?"

"I hear you're looking for someone to supervise Dr Reid when you're out on cases? I'm here to volunteer." She named her name, then added, "I've got lots of vacation and days off that are stacking up."

"Are you the agent who spoke to our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, this morning?" Spencer asked. The young woman looked at him, trying to keep from showing how flustered his question made her, and finally answered, "I – ah – yes, that was me."

Hotch looked questioningly at Spencer, who gave him a tiny shake of the head, and replied,

"Thank you, Agent. We're still considering all the possibilities, so we'll let you know."

"It would be a great opportunity, and an honour, of course," she said, turning a brilliant smile on Hotch, sharing it quickly with Spencer, and finally going away again. Spencer watched her find a place to sit down where she could still see them, and he could see her. When their eyes met, she was the one who looked away first.

"Word gets around quickly," Hotch said. "And what was that about Garcia?"

Spencer relayed what Garcia had told him, and Hotch looked troubled. "Let's hope we find somebody more suited for the job before we're called out on our next case."

When they'd finished eating and were exiting the dining hall, Hotch said, "I suppose we should get you some physical activity while we're out."

"I can do it by myself," Spencer said. "You can go back to work."

"No, a few minutes in the fresh air will help clear my head, too," Hotch said. "What sort of things did you and Johnson do? What about marching?"

"I really don't want to march anymore," Spencer said. "It's no fun without Ally."

"Too bad we don't have a ball," Hotch said. "We could kick it back and forth. I should bring one to-morrow."

"Hotch, you know I'm not very good at ball games," Spencer said.

"I don't know that," Hotch said. "I've never actually seen you within three feet of a ball."

"And hopefully you never will," Spencer said. "But trust me, I am very bad at ball games."

"Sometimes I tell the kids on the soccer team to skip from one end of the the field to the next, as part of warm-ups," Hotch said. "Try that."

"I'm not very good at skipping, either." But Spencer tried, hopping awkwardly, until he finally gave up. "I'm better at jumping rope, but Ally took it with her."

"Run over to that tree," Hotch suggested, "then throw a snowball at me."

"That sounds more like it!" Spencer exclaimed. He raced happily through the snow to touch the tree, then packed the snow into a ball and threw it. Hotch just stood there grinning as the snowball landed a short distance shy of his feet.

"Run back to me, then to that tree over there," he told Spencer, pointing.

By the time they reached the door of the BAU building, Spencer thought he'd had a pretty good workout, but Hotch obviously didn't think they were done for the day yet.

"Let's take the stairs," Hotch said. Spencer groaned, but followed him into the stairwell. When they reached the third floor, Spencer said, "Hotch, can we take the elevator from here?"

"How about you take the inside track, and I'll race you up to the bullpen!" Hotch set off up the stairs, hugging the outside wall, and after a moment, Spencer followed. They arrived at the top at the same time, both panting. Hotch staggered through the door into the corridor, and Spencer followed. Seeing that his boss was bent over a little, taking a deep breath, Spencer took advantage of the opportunity and sprinted down the hall to the glass doors that led to the bullpen. He smacked one with his palm, then crowed, "I win!"

"Yup, you win, buddy," Hotch said. "Good race! But when we do it again to-morrow, I'll get there first."

* * *

2 December 2011

The team came back on Friday, and because Spencer and Hotch still had not found a new supervisor for Spencer by then, Emily volunteered to take Spencer out for his afternoon break.

"So, Christmas is coming up, you want me to take you shopping so you can buy something for Hotch and Jack?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's a good idea, thanks!" Spencer said.

"To-morrow?"

Spencer hesitated. "Hotch said he'd take me and Jack sledding in the morning. I'd really like to go again – I've only ever been once."

"Well, how about the afternoon?"

"Yeah, we could do that. I could ask Hotch if you could come over for lunch, if you like."

Emily grinned. "I think I'd like to sleep in, but I can come over afterwards. Say about two o'clock? Good. Now, Hotch told me how you guys like to run around and throw snowballs at each other."

"No, just me throwing them at him," Spencer said. "And I've only managed to hit him once, and it wasn't even him, it was just his shoe."

"Well, maybe you'll have better luck with me," Emily said. "Go on, then, run to that tree."

Spencer ran, but he hadn't reached the trunk yet when something hit his back. He turned around and glared at Emily. "Emily! I was supposed to throw the snowball at you, not the other way around!"

"Hey, I want some fun, too!" Emily grinned, then stretched out both arms. "Here's your target, and I'll even stand still while you throw. Then I'll throw one at you the next time you run, how's that?"

Spencer threw as hard as he could, but only managed to land it at her feet.

"Close, but that only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades!" she called back, scooping up a handful of snow. "Come on back!"

Spencer stayed where he was. "It wouldn't be fair if you throw it at me while I'm coming towards you."

"All right, then I'll wait until you've come back. You tag me, then you run to the next tree, and then I'll throw," she said.

But of course she won. Spencer didn't manage to hit her with a single one of his snowballs, while she hit him in the back or the legs each time, and even once in the head. Then she insisted on racing up the stairs from the third floor, just like Hotch did, and beat him at that, too.

"Whew, that was fun," Emily said, grinning as she held open the glass door for Spencer. "I could throw snowballs at you all day."

"It's fun, but it's not really fair," Spencer said. "You're taller and stronger than I am."

"It's not supposed to be fair, it's just supposed to get your blood pumping," Emily said. "And you'll be taller and stronger than I am one day soon, too."


	17. Chapter 17

3 December 2011

The next morning, Spencer and Hotch and Jack all got up at the usual time, and after a little pleading by Jack, Hotch drove them to a store to buy two kid-sized inner tubes so that they could each have one and wouldn't have to share the sled. Finally they went to a large hill in the middle of a park. It was obviously a popular destination , to judge by the amount of cars parked along the road, and the number of children swarming up the steps set into one side of the hill to launch themselves down the slope. Jack and Spencer eagerly joined them. At the top, Spencer flopped facedown onto his inner tube and Jack gave him a funny look. "You're supposed to sit on it, like a sled—"

But Spencer didn't hear the rest of what he said, because his inner tube started to slide, and he was racing down the hill. He felt a moment of fear, but then the slope became more shallow and he slowed down, finally coming to a stop, and the fear turned into delight. And when Jack's inner tube bumped into his and scooted him along a little bit farther, he just laughed.

"That was great!" he cried to Hotch, who was standing there with his phone in his hand, taking pictures, or maybe even a video.

"Yeah, this is fun!" Jack chimed in.

"Well, do it again," Hotch replied, giving them a fond smile.

They went up and down the hill so often that Spencer lost count. Finally, Hotch said, "One more time each, and then we should probably go."

"Awww," Jack and Spencer said at the same time, which made them both laugh. Then Jack picked up his inner tube and started to climb, and Spencer followed a moment later. When he was halfway up, however, a young child on a sled went by too close to the steps and accidentally clipped Jack's inner tube, tearing it out of his hand so that it slid down the slope on its own.

"Hey!" Jack shouted, turning around. Spencer turned, too, and saw Hotch run over to grab the empty tube. Jack tried to go down the steps, but there were too many children coming up, so he stepped off onto the snow. Hotch came diagonally up the slope towards him, dodging tubes and sleds as he made his way to the steps. They were almost close enough to meet when two adolescent boys on a huge inner tube ran into Hotch, flipping him onto his head.

"Dad!" Jack screamed, and Spencer called out as well. "Hotch!"

He lay there, much too still. Pushing down his dread, Spencer dropped his inner tube, stepped into the snow, and made his way carefully down to where Hotch was sprawled. His head lay on one of the cement steps, but at least his eyes were open.

"Hey, mister, you all right?" a teenage girl was asking, and Jack was practically crying, "Dad, Dad!"

Other people were starting to crowd around. Letting his FBI training take over, Spencer wriggled through, knelt down next to Hotch, shucked off his gloves, and felt for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady, and he freed his watch from his sleeve to count. Normal. Then he peered into Hotch's eyes to see if the pupils were dilated, but they looked normal, too. Hotch blinked and frowned up at him.

"Dad?" Jack asked again.

Spencer dug out his phone and dialled 911. "Hello, my name is Spencer Reid, we need an ambulance."

"Hey, kid, I've already called," somebody said loudly, but Spencer ignored him and gave the operator the address. "It's the hill where everybody is sledding. My – my guardian was hit by a tube and knocked off his feet. He hit his head, I'm not sure if he was unconscious, but if he was, it was for a very short time. His pulse is steady and his eyes don't appear to be dilated."

"I'll relay that information, and an ambulance is on the way," the operator said.

"Thanks," Spencer said, and hung up.

"Uh," said Hotch, reaching out a shaky arm, and Jack practically fell on him, crying. Hotch gave a weak "oomph," then said, "Jack … s'okay."

Spencer pulled Jack back as much as he could. "You have to be gentle with him, Jack, he's hurt. Just hold his hand for now."

Jack reached out for Hotch's hand, and Spencer said, "Hotch? Look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"One," Hotch murmured.

"Can you follow my finger with your eyes?" He moved it back and forth and Hotch's eyes followed the movement smoothly.

"Do you know where you are?" Spencer went on.

"The park." Hotch looked blearily around, then tried to sit up, and groaned. Seeing a spot of blood on the step where his head had been, Spencer pushed him back. "Don't move. You hit your head. Do you feel nauseous?"

"No," Hotch said, but he didn't try to sit up again.

"Okay, but please stay still, the ambulance is coming." Spencer glanced around, hoping to see it pulling up already, but although it wasn't in view, he could at least hear a siren. "Does anybody have a blanket? He's in shock, we need to keep him warm."

A man came forward with a children's blanket and Spencer directed him to tuck it under Hotch's legs. A woman volunteered a hat to place under Hotch's head, and Hotch lifted his head obligingly, but winced as he did so. Spencer patted his shoulder reassuringly. From behind him, another man asked jokingly, "Hey, kid, where'd you go to medical school?"

"I didn't," Spencer replied. "I just read a lot."

"Wow," the woman said, and Spencer felt obliged to add, "And my guardian here is in the FBI – he taught me a lot about how to respond to a crisis."

"Wish he could teach my kids," the woman said. "They'd just step over my body and run home to the Nintendo."

Saying the letters FBI reminded Spencer that he'd better inform the team, and because he was supposed to be meeting up with Emily later that day anyway, he took out his own phone to dial her number. When Emily answered, it was obvious he'd roused her from sleep, but when he explained the situation, she became instantly awake.

"The ambulance is coming, I'll call you back when I know more," Spencer said, and hung up.

Spencer ran over to meet the paramedics, telling them what had happened and giving them what information he had on Hotch's condition. They insisted on checking for themselves, of course, which made Spencer just a little impatient, and then they carefully loaded Hotch onto a gurney.

"Can I go with my dad?" Jack asked tearfully, running along as they started to wheel the gurney towards the ambulance. Spencer jogged to keep up and announced, "There's nobody else here to take care of us."

From the gurney, Hotch said, "My wife died and it's just me now …"

"Guess you boys had better get in," the one paramedic replied. "And don't worry, even if your dad has to spend a night at the hospital, he should be fine in a day or two."

They loaded Hotch into the back of the ambulance and found room for both Jack and Spencer.

"We need to call Aunt Jessica," Jack said as they drove off.

"Number … in my phone …" Hotch mumbled.

"We'll take care of that at the hospital," the paramedic announced brightly, but Spencer reached in under the emergency blanket and patted along Hotch's hips until he found the phone.

"I've got it," he said, standing up to get the phone out of Hotch's pocket, and almost falling over as the ambulance went around a corner. The paramedic grabbed him around the waist to steady him.

"Sit down," the paramedic said, pulling him back. "We don't want to be treating you next."

But Spencer had already managed to wriggle the phone out of Hotch's pocket, and as soon as he was seated again, he began to search the list of contacts.

"Let me call," Hotch said, but Spencer found the right name and handed the phone to Jack instead.

"Aunt Jessica?" Jack wailed as soon as there was an answer. "I need you! Dad's been hurt!"

"Let me talk to your aunt," the paramedic said, and Jack handed over the phone. The paramedic spoke briefly to Jessica, explaining the situation and giving her the name of the hospital, then gave the phone back to Jack.

They arrived at the hospital, and one paramedic took Jack and Spencer to the waiting room while the other took Hotch to an examination cubicle, informing a nurse about the situation on the way. Spencer took out his phone and informed Emily where they were, then put it away again. Almost instantly, his steady calm dissolved into worry, and he realised it was because the responsibility had passed from him to the professionals, leaving him with nothing more to do but wait. He tried not to talk to Jack and the paramedic too much about statistics and probabilities.

Hotch's sister-in-law arrived first, and Jack ran over for a desperate hug. "Aunt Jessica!"

"Jack! Whoa, don't knock me over! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but Dad …"

"I'm sure he'll be fine." The waiting room was crowded, so Jessica took the seat Jack had just vacated, and Jack climbed onto her lap. Looking over, Jessica also said, "Hi, Spencer."

"Hi," he said.

"I take it you're a family member?" asked the paramedic.

"I'm his next of kin, yes," she replied. "How is Aaron, do you know?"

"It looked like a concussion to me, but he's still being examined," the paramedic said, then turned responsibility for Spencer and Jack over to her and went back to his ambulance. They sat there for several more minutes, with Jack telling Jessica his version of what had happened, then Emily came in. Spencer, who had been watching for her, stood up on his chair and waved both arms. "Emily!"

"Hey!" she said, and when she came over, Spencer reached out for a hug. "Hello, Spencer, you're awfully cuddly all of a sudden."

She used one hand to brush the melting snow of Spencer's boots off the chair, then sat down with Spencer in her lap and turned to Jessica. "Hi, I'm Emily Prentiss, I don't know if you remember me, but we met at Haley's funeral? I work with Hotch?"

"Emily, yeah, hi," Jessica said, looking from her to Spencer and back again. "Sorry, I thought you might be Spencer's special nanny, but, um, you said you work with Aaron?"

"My old nanny quit, and Emily's helping out until we can find a new one," Spencer explained.

"Oh. Okay," Jessica said, still a little confused, but visibly deciding there were other things to worry about.

They were interrupted by a nurse calling out, "Family of Aaron Hotchner?"

Jack jumped out of Jessica's lap and raced over to her. "I'm his son! Is he all right? Can I see him?"

Jessica, Spencer, and Emily followed with only slightly less speed. Upon discovering that Jessica was the next of kin, the nurse directed her next words to her. "He's got a concussion, and we'll be taking him for an MRI to rule out anything worse, but on a day like to-day, there are a few people ahead of him and it'll be a long wait. You can see him for a few minutes, and then you should probably take the children home. Can I get your number so we call you with an update?"

Jessica gave it to her, then asked, "Will he have to stay overnight?"

"Yes, and depending on what we observe, maybe even longer than that," the nurse said, leading them past various cubicles. "Here you are. Keep it brief, please."

Hotch had been transferred to the examination room bed and clothed in a hospital gown, with his belongings packed up in a huge plastic bag down at the end of the bed. When they came in, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly. "Jack!"

"Dad!" Jack cried, reaching out to give him as much of a hug as he could. Spencer saw Hotch wince whenever he moved his head.

"Jessica," Hotch said next. "Thanks … for coming."

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of Jack for you," she said. "You just concentrate on getting better."

"I will," Hotch said, then asked, "Emily? What are you … doing here?"

"Spencer called me," she said. "How do you feel?"

"I'll be okay," Hotch claimed.

"Hotch, can I stay with Emily while you're in the hospital?" Spencer asked quickly.

"Yeah," Hotch exhaled.

"And can we borrow the keys to your car so Emily can get the car seat?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Hotch. Now you don't have anything to worry about, so just get well soon," Spencer told him with fake optimism. He hoped Hotch was only concussed and hadn't sustained a traumatic brain injury.

"Yeah," Hotch said for the third time, which only increased Spencer's misgivings.

"Jack and I can get the car seat if you want to stay here with Spencer," Jessica volunteered.

"That's good, we can do that," Emily said. "We'll be out in the waiting room if you two want a few minutes alone with Hotch."

"Thanks," Jessica said.

In the waiting room, Emily said, "Jessica seems really nice."

"Yes, but I don't really know her, and she doesn't know me," Spencer said. "I mean, she doesn't know it's me. How could I tell her she has to drive a five-year-old to the BAU every morning? And after having been interrogated by SHIELD, I'm a bit hesitant to tell anybody else about the de-aging machine."

"Yeah, I totally get that."

"Not to mention I really have trouble acting like a kid," Spencer went on.

"No! You don't say!" Emily teased. "But you'll have to sleep on the couch at my place. I haven't got anything else for you."

"The couch will be fine. My legs aren't as long as they used to be, so I should be able to fit on it without any problems. And Hotch has a sleeping bag we can borrow, if that will help," Spencer said.

"I've got plenty of sheets and blankets. We'll make you comfortable."

Jessica came back then, and made arrangements to call Emily when she was on her way back to the hospital with the car seat. Spencer was able to tell her exactly where Hotch had parked his car, and it took less than an hour for her to go and return. Once the seat had been transferred and Spencer was safely buckled in, Emily got into the driver's seat and said, "How about we get some food, and then we can see about getting you set up at my place?"

"What about our Christmas shopping?" Spencer asked, and Emily groaned. "Sorry, with Hotch in the hospital, I completely forgot. Yeah, Christmas shopping."

Spencer suggested a certain bookstore that had a café, and Emily asked, "A bookstore? Will I be able to get you out of there again?"

"I'm shopping for Hotch and Jack, not myself," Spencer said, and Emily laughed. "You think that will make a difference?"

"Well, I already have something in mind for Jack, but I'm not sure about Hotch, so … maybe not?"

But when they were at the bookstore, Spencer saw something on the cover of a book that inspired him as to what to buy for Hotch. It meant going to another store, and then going home, putting the final touches on everything, and wrestling with wrapping paper, but then it was done. Spencer sat back and looked at the packages with satisfaction, thinking about Hotch using what he'd bought.

After supper, when Emily was making Spencer laugh by wrapping Sergio in gift paper and seeing how far she got before the cat no longer played along, Jessica called. Hotch was only concussed, and although they were going to keep him for observation until Monday morning, everything looked good so far. They could even visit him the next day if they wanted.

"That's a relief," Spencer said when Emily had relayed the news. "I was worried about traumatic brain injury."

"Yeah, he seemed a little out of it when we were there," Emily remembered. "Jessica also said they're at Hotch's apartment and if you need anything, we can drive over and get it."

"My pyjamas," Spencer said immediately, but also thinking of Boney. "My whole go-bag, actually."

"Well, let's go get it," Emily said, "and then it will be bedtime for you."

But the next morning, when they were getting ready to drive to the hospital to visit Hotch, Emily's phone buzzed. She looked at the message and announced, "We have a case, and if they're calling us out on a Sunday, it's going to be a bad one."

"I'll get my bag!" Spencer called, already running towards it.

"I'll call the cat-sitter," Emily said.

Garcia and Morgan were already there when they arrived in the conference room, and Garcia immediately asked, "How's Hotch?"

"We were just on our way to see him," Emily said, "but obviously, we didn't make it."

"Oh, dear, and here I was hoping for new news," Garcia said.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan said. In Hotch's absence, he was acting unit chief. "What are you doing here?"

"We have a case," Spencer reminded him.

"Yeah, but I thought you'd be staying home with Jack and Jessica."

"I'm actually staying with Emily at the moment."

"Yeah, but are you even allowed to work without your supervisor?"

"I worked three and a half days last week without a supervisor. I took myself out for breaks, and Hotch made sure I got lunch. We can do the same on the case. I'll make sure I take my breaks, and you guys can take turns with the other stuff."

Morgan frowned, not convinced. "I don't know, maybe we should ask Hotch."

"I already did, and he said yes," Spencer reported.

"You asked him if you could go on this case?" Morgan pressed, looking skeptical.

"Well, I asked him if I could stay with Emily, and he said yes, so if she goes on this case, then I can go," Spencer reasoned.

"It's okay," Emily broke in. "I'll take responsibility for him."

"If something goes wrong, I'll tell Hotch it's all your fault," Morgan threatened, but he smiled as he did so.

"I said responsibility, not blame. There's a difference."

"There might not be," Morgan teased. "But, okay. I won't pretend we don't need you, Reid."

"Hey, guys, you'll never guess who's the star on a Youtube video that a friend of mine just sent me a link to," said Rossi, coming in with his phone at the ready.

"Who?" Emily asked as they all crowded around to watch. At first, he could only see the back of a boy's head, but then he heard a high, clear child's voice saying, "My – my guardian was hit by a tube and knocked off his feet …"

When the Spencer on the film remarked that he hadn't gone to medical school, but that he read a lot, all the other agents burst into laughter. Spencer cringed a little, reminded of being laughed at too many times at school, and was happy when the video ended right after the woman made the Nintendo remark.

"I didn't see that anybody was filming that," Spencer said. At least the video only really showed him from the side and back, and Hotch was mostly out of focus.

"You were too busy taking care of Hotch," Morgan said.

"You sounded just like a real doctor when you were getting Hotch to follow your finger," Rossi told him, grinning.

"I am a real doctor," Spencer pointed out, "just not a medical one."

"Oh, JJ, you have to see this!" Emily said, greeting the newcomer.

"Is that the video of Spence and Hotch after his head injury?" JJ asked. "Will showed me that last night. Spencer's so adorable when he's acting like a doctor, isn't he?"

Spencer didn't bother to protest a second time that he _was _a doctor. Instead he looked pleadingly at Garcia. "Can we get on with the case now?"

"Okay, speaking of cute kids, this one was kidnapped three weeks ago, and this one was kidnapped a week ago. They were both tortured and died as a result of that and sexual assault. This morning, a third child was reported missing," Garcia began, and soon the team was flying to a small airstrip in rural Oklahoma. They were met by a nervous-looking mixed-race deputy with only one car and definitely not enough room for all of them.

"Hi, I'm Gary Wagoner," he said, then caught sight of Spencer. "Well, hey, munchkin, who are you? I didn't think the FBI brought their kids to work with them."

"My boss is turning a blind eye, just this once," Emily said. "My nanny quit, and we haven't got a new one yet. But my boy here is very smart for his age, and incredibly well-behaved. We'll just put him in a hotel room with a few books, and we won't hear a peep out of him, will we, Spencer?"

"Not until I run out of books," Spencer said, shivering a little in the icy wind.

Wagoner laughed uncertainly. "Well, it'll be a motel room, because we don't have any hotels in a town this size. That okay?"

"As long as there's a bed and the heating works, we should be fine," Emily said.

"We do have a small library branch. If the little guy wants to use my card, I'd be more than happy to share. And, uh, obviously we also don't have a very big police force, so I asked a friend to help pick you up. She should be coming … right about now," Wagoner said, directing their attention to an older station wagon lumbering up the road.

The middle-aged woman who got out to greet them was black, short, plump, and dressed as though she had just come from church. Spencer, Garcia, Emily and the pilot ended up in the station wagon with her, headed for the motel, while she mentioned that she'd cut short her afternoon Sunday School class in order to do anything at all, no matter how small, to help law enforcement find who was repsonsible for those poor children. Meanwhile, Wagoner was driving the rest of the team straight to the police station.

Despite the small town and the limited pool of suspects, there were also a lot of false leads over the next few days that didn't pan out. Spencer cut his breaks shorter and shorter, and kept working closer and closer to his bed time, going over the available information again and again, and questioning his co-workers over video link as much as he could. He yearned to be out in the middle of the action, observing witnesses and crime scenes for firsthand details, especially when the body of the third child was discovered.


	18. Chapter 18

7-8 December 2011

By Wednesday morning, they were starting to suspect there might be two Unsubs, and one of them might be a member of local law enforcement, but Garcia was still researching and trying to find the information that would allow them to narrow down their search. When it was break time, Spencer went outside unwillingly to wander around the empty parking lot of the motel for a breath of fresh, cold air. When he came back, he took off his boots and climbed up onto the bed, then started to jump.

"Spencer, do you have to do that?" Garcia asked, her usual cheerful self sounding close to being annoyed.

"Yes," he said. "There isn't much else I can do in here for exercise, unless you want me to take another member of the team away from the investigation so we can go for a walk."

"Can't you jump on the floor, then?"

"This is more fun. And I'll be done in a minute."

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Garcia got up, but the door opened from the outside. "Hey, can I come in?"

"Deputy Wagoner," Garcia exclaimed. "Hi!"

"Hi. Agent Morgan asked me to bring this over? Background files," the deputy announced, holding out a large box.

"I thought we already got those?" Garcia asked. Spencer continued to bounce on the mattress, watching the exchange.

"There were more. Maybe there's something here that you can use."

"Yeah. Can you just put it over there on the floor? Thanks."

The deputy put the box between the beds where she'd indicated, because there was no other room, and said, "Hi, munchkin, looks like you've run out of books already. I can take you to the library if you want."

"I've still got some," Spencer said. "I'm just taking a quick break from reading, but thanks for the offer."

Thinking that the deputy surely had better things to do in the middle of a kidnapping case than to take a kid to the library, and that he should get back to work himself, Spencer bounced over to the far side of the bed and made a final jump to the floor. When he turned back, he saw Garcia slumping in the deputy's arm and the deputy pulling a syringe out of her neck.

"Garcia!" he cried, running not to her, but to the array of laptops to call for help. He wasn't quick enough to make a connection, however, before the deputy had grabbed him and pushed him onto the bed. Spencer screamed as the man duct-taped his hands together behind his back, flipped him over and slapped a strip of tape over his mouth, then bound his legs together as well. Once he was secure, Wagoner picked him up and carried him out to the police cruiser. Spencer tried to wiggle and kick as much as he could, but was unable to escape, or even slow the deputy down. And of course there was nobody in the motel parking lot to notice such a blatant kidnapping. Wagoner stuffed him facedown onto the floor between the seats, then got in the front and drove off.

Spencer forced himself to calm down and keep track of the drive, noting any turns, and trying to estimate how long they drove straight ahead. Although he had done similar exercises in FBI training, this time was much harder because it was real and not a simulation, and he was truly scared. He'd seen what the Unsub had done to the children, and it wasn't pretty. Thinking that he might end up dead reminded him of a case he'd read about, where a girl had managed to leave her DNA on the inside of the trunk of a car by licking as much of it as she could reach. With the tape on his mouth, Spencer couldn't lick, but he could rub his head against the back of the seat, and the floor mats, and try to leave hairs for forensic evidence.

When they stopped, Wagoner plucked him out of the car and hurried him into a barn. Spencer only got a quick look at the surroundings, but it was bleak, only snow-covered fields and a few trees near a mobile tower. If there was a house nearby, he couldn't see it, but the mobile tower gave him hope. In the barn, Wagoner knelt down and pulled up a trap door, letting it bang noisily on the floor as he dropped it open, then took Spencer down a set of wooden steps. The space below was cold and unlit, and even before Wagoner dropped him on an old, smelly and scratchy blanket, Spencer started to scream behind the tape at the thought of being trapped in the dark.

"I'll give you something to scream about, oh, yeah," Wagoner said, sounding much too eager. Spencer heard the jingle of keys, then the click of a lock and the squeak of a metal door. A moment later, light flooded the room and Wagoner hung a battery-operated lamp from a hook on the ceiling. He was standing next to a metal cabinet, and inside, Spencer saw shelves holding various implements of torture. The sight made him feel sick, especially when Wagoner reached for something on the top shelf and brought down a riding crop, then closed the door again.

"No!" Spencer tried to shout. To his surprise, Wagoner ripped the tape from his mouth, then flipped him over onto his front.

"No, please don't hurt me, I won't scream anymore, I'll be good!" Spencer cried.

"I want to hear you scream. I like it when you scream," Wagoner said. He put the crop down briefly in oder to open the zipper of his trousers, then picked the crop up again. Burying his free hand in Spencer's hair and holding his head in place with it, he lifted the crop and brought it down hard on Spencer's legs.

Spencer gritted his teeth together and tried not to give Wagoner the satisfaction, but the second blow was too painful, and the third one landed, either by accident or design, across the sides of his hands, and he screeched, and kept on screeching and sobbing until Wagoner was finally finished.

"I knew you'd be a good screamer," Wagoner sighed, cleaning himself on a corner of the blanket before zipping his trousers up again. "That was so good, even for a quickie. I have to go now, but we'll do it again soon. Just me and you. I won't let him have you just yet."

He put the crop back where it belonged, unhooked the lantern and turned it off, put it back as well, then locked the cabinet and went back up the steps. Afraid, in pain, surrounded by darkness, Spencer lay there and howled. He wanted the light and comfort and hugs. He wanted Hotch!

Even as he cried, however, part of his mind was telling him to pull himself together. Hotch was in a completely different state and couldn't come anyway. Nobody knew where he was, and it might be hours or even days before the team narrowed their suspect pool down to Wagoner, so if he was going to survive this, it would all be up to him, and nobody else. Eventually, he forced himself to stop crying and concentrate on the first step. If he could just get his hands free, he could try to get his phone out.

It took a lot of wiggling and stretching, and grimacing with the pain of the bruises from the crop, but Spencer managed to wriggle around so that he was on his back, then lift his legs up so that his feet went over his head. Pulling his arms apart as far as the duct tape would allow, he worked them over his buttocks and upper thighs. There was one terrible moment when he thought he might get stuck like that and die of slow asphyxiation, but he wiggled, pushed, pulled and contorted some more. It was one of the few times that he was happy for his five-year-old body, knowing he wouldn't have been half as limber as an adult. Finally, he was able to slide his legs back through so that his arms were in front. Breathing hard, Spencer then set to work chewing on the duct tape around his wrists, and although he lost a tooth in the process, he eventually managed to bite through.

With his hands free, he peeled the tape from his jeans, hissing at the pain in his hands, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and switched it on. It produced a welcome green light that made him blink away fresh tears. He remembered how the SHIELD agent had frisked him and taken his phone, but Wagoner hadn't done any such thing. The deputy probably hadn't expected someone as young as five to even know how a cell phone worked, let alone carry one. But Spencer's relief was short-lived when he discovered that there was no signal. He moved around the room, checking and hoping, and finally went up the steps to crouch at the top. One bar appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again when he moved the phone slightly. He used the finger that hurt the least to call Morgan, watching the bar intently and urging it not to disappear a second time.

"Reid? Spencer?" Morgan's voice was faint, but audible, and Spencer called out desperately. "Morgan! There are two Unsubs and one of them is Deputy Wagoner!"

"Deputy?" Morgan asked. "Say again?"

"Wagoner!" Spencer shouted. "Wagoner is one of the Unsubs!"

"Wagoner is one of the Unsubs?" Morgan repeated, and Spencer wanted to start crying all over again from sheer relief.

"He's the submissive partner! There's also a dominant Unsub, but I don't know who! Morgan, I'm in a barn! In a cellar room underneath a barn! There's a cell phone tower nearby!"

"Are you –" but then the signal failed and the rest of Morgan's question did not get through. The bar disappeared and did not come back, no matter how Spencer moved the phone around. Eventually, he put it on the step and tried to lift the trap door, but it was secured from the outside. He slumped a little in defeat, but recognised that the next step was staying alive long enough for the team to find him Using the phone to light his way, he moved stiffly down the steps and got onto the wooden shelf again. Folding one end of the blanket around his stocking feet in an attempt to warm them up, Spencer curled up and pulled the other end of the blanket up over his head. He kept the phone in his hand, staring down at the light, and wishing he could call Hotch while he waited.

After two hours of shivering without rescue, Spencer got out from under the blanket and went up the steps to try calling again. No matter how he moved the phone, however, no signal appeared, and he finally gave up. He'd try again later, he told himself as he wrapped up in the blanket again. It was very cold. He flexed his feet back and forth, back and forth to keep the blood moving, and wished he were in his bed in Hotch's apartment, nice and warm, with Boney to keep him company, and maybe even the teddy bear that Jack had given him when he was sick. But mostly, he wished for warm, human arms to hold him close and tell him everything was going to be all right.

He checked cell phone coverage every hour, and was rewarded once with a single bar, but it disappeared halfway through the ring tone, and did not come back. The disappointment made him cry again, and he wondered if he were starting to develop a kind of dissociative identity disorder between Dr Reid, thirty-year-old FBI agent, and Spencer, five-year-old crybaby. Except that he wasn't dissociating between the two identities; he was still clear and present in both of them. It would make a fascinating scientific study – if only it were happening to someone else.

After several hours of captivity, Spencer finally heard footsteps from above. His first thought was that it was Morgan, here to rescue him at last, but then he realised it might still be Wagoner. He got up from the wooden shelf, stifling a groan at the pain and another at the thought of leaving the meager warmth of the blanket, and made his way stiffly to the space below the steps just as the trapdoor opened. If Wagoner came down, Spencer could reach through the open space between the steps and grab his ankle, hopefully making him fall. It might give him a chance to escape.

The beam of a flashlight cut through the gloom, illuminating the empty shelf, and Morgan called out, "Reid! Reid, you in here?"

"Yes," he replied. "I'm here!"

He came out from behind the steps and Morgan came down, holstering his gun and sticking his flashlight into his belt so that he had both hands free for a hug. "Hey, Pretty Boy, sorry it took so long. You okay?"

"Ye—ahhh!" Spencer cried out as Morgan lifted him up by his bruised backside.

"Whoa, what hurts?"

"Just a few bruises," Spencer said, trying to hug Morgan's warmth into his own body. His teeth chattered as he said, "G-G-Get me out of here, please, Morgan."

"I'll get you to the hospital right away," Morgan shouted as he carried Spencer back up the steps and out of the barn. It was dark outside and the only illumination came from the headlights of police cruiser parked nearby.

"You found him? Is he okay?"

It was a strange voice, a man that Spencer hadn't seen before, and he wrapped his arms and legs tightly around Morgan in panic. "Who's that?"

"It's all right, it's just the sheriff," Morgan said.

"Wagoner has a d-d-dominant p-p-partner, d-d-did you find him?" Spencer asked, stuttering a little because he was shivering. "Because it c-c-could be anybody Wagoner worked with, even the sheriff."

"We found Wagoner's partner, that's what took us so long to find you. I'll tell you the whole story later, but you remember the lady who came with Wagoner to pick us up at the airfield? It was her brother. The sheriff had nothing to do with the crime. Now, you gonna let go of me so we can get you in the car and get you to the hospital?"

"I d-d-don't need a hospital. I'm n-n-not hurt, just a bit c-c-cold."

"Hey, Sheriff, you got a blanket or something?" Morgan asked. "This kid's freezing!"

The sheriff got a blanket out of the trunk, and Spencer couldn't help flinching away as he approached. The blanket looked suspiciously like the one from the cellar room, even if it smelled better.

"Hotch'll have my head on a plate if you come home with one single bruise or scratch, and he finds out I didn't take you to the hospital to have it checked out," Morgan said, helping to tuck the blanket around Spencer. "And he'll kill me even more if all your toes fall off from frostbite."

The sheriff opened the back door to the police car and Morgan set Spencer in the seat. The pressure on his bruises hurt, but he only grimaced and clenched his teeth to avoid making a sound.

"Speaking of t-t-toes, c-c-can you wrap my feet up?" he asked. "They're really c-c-cold."

Morgan bundled the blanket around his feet and buckled the seatbelt over the blanket. "Okay?"

"Okay." Spencer watched as Morgan went around the front of the car, but got into the backseat with him.

"There's a medical clinic in the next town," the sheriff said as they drove off. "It'll take us about forty minutes to get there."

The police car was warm, and despite the tingling of returning circulation in his arms and legs, Spencer dozed off before they arrived at the clinic. After diagnosing mild hypothermia, the doctor also took a closer look at Spencer's bruises, which ran in stripes from his buttocks to the backs of his knees, and on the sides of his hands, but decided that x-rays could wait until the next day, when he would be properly warmed up. Morgan helped Spencer dress in hospital-issue pyjamas, and tucked him into a hospital bed with a cup of warm chocolate, a bowl of warm soup, and a hot water bottle at his feet. The nurse, obviously thinking he was an ordinary five-year-old, even brought in a well-worn stuffed dog for Spencer to cuddle overnight.

"Tell me how you caught the Unsubs," Spencer said. His hands were no longer shaking and though they hurt, he could feed himself, so he ate while Morgan described how Spencer's phone call had alerted them to Wagoner. He had apparently come back to work, acting as though everything was fine, but had then gone off to investigate a "tip," which meant the BAU team had spent precious time and resources trying to find him. Garcia had also slept several hours after her sedative, but had finally woken up at about the time Wagoner had led them right to his dominant partner. Still a big groggy, but determined to do her best, Garcia had researched property on the internet and found some in the name of the partner which matched Spencer's description of a barn near a cell phone tower. The sheriff, who knew the place well enough, had led Morgan there while the others were out making the arrests.

"And I guess that's your bedtime story," Morgan finished.

"And the BAU caught the Unsubs and then they all went back to work happily ever after," Spencer said with a smile. "That's the best ending."

"Kid, you got a strange idea of a happy ending," Morgan said. "Working happily ever after?"

"I know, I'm weird," Spencer said, then yawned. "Are you going to stay with me, Morgan?"

"All night long," Morgan reassured him with a fond smile. "Now get some sleep."

But as glad as Spencer was that Morgan was there, he still wished it were Hotch, especially when he woke from a nightmare.

The next morning, x-rays showed that nothing was broken, not even in Spencer's hands, and he was released from the clinic. They went for lunch at a family restaurant nearby, and when he was finished eating but the others were lingering over their meal, Spencer pulled out his phone and dialled Hotch.

It rang three times and then Hotch answered. "Spencer? Where are you?"

"We're still in Oklahoma, but we're flying back this afternoon," Spencer replied.

"Oklahoma?" Hotch repeated, as though he'd never heard of the state.

"Yeah, we had a case, but it's over now and we should be back in Quantico by supper time. How are you doing? Should I still stay with Emily?"

"Did you tell me you were staying with Emily?"

"Yes, at the hospital, before your MRI scan. You might not remember; you were kind of groggy. Jessica was there, though, she can confirm it," Spencer said. A little worried now, he asked, "Hotch, are you all right? Are you out of the hospital yet? What did they say?"

"I've been out of the hospital since Monday," Hotch said. "It was a mild concussion."

"So, you're home?"

"Yes, I'm home, and Jessica is staying over, just as a precaution, until I'm cleared for work again."

Spencer felt his heart sink a little at the thought that Jessica was there, and wondered where she was sleeping. Had she taken over his part of the bunk bed, right under Jack? But instead, he asked, "How are you feeling? Do you have any headaches? Is your vision blurry? Do you ever feel off-balance?"

"Spencer, slow down, you're not my doctor," Hotch said with a little laugh. "I'm fine and I'm not having any post-concussion symptoms. I've got a follow-up appointment on Monday and I expect to be back at work on Tuesday."

"Okay. That's good. So, um, Hotch, can I come home?" As soon as he'd said it, he wondered when he'd started thinking of Hotch's apartment as home.

"Yes, Spencer, you can come home," Hotch said, and in the same loving tone of voice he used for Jack, he added, "It's been strange not having you around. I've missed you, buddy."

"I missed you, too, Hotch," Spencer replied. "I'll see you then!"

Feeling much better, Spencer ended the call, and glanced around the large table where they were all sitting. "Hotch says he's fine and he expects to be back at work on Tuesday. JJ, you live closest to him, can you drive me there when we get home, and pick me up for work to-morrow? "

"Sure," JJ said.

"Whoa, whoa, not happening, kid," Morgan put in. "You can go home to-night, but you're definitely not coming in to work to-morrow."

Spencer looked at him in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Do you really think I don't see you wiggling around because you can't sit properly on those bruises?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, but my office chair is much softer than this one," Spencer pointed out. It was true; the chair he was currently sitting on was made of hard wood, but his office chair was nicely padded.

"Well, you and your office chair will just have to wait until you've been cleared for work by one of the Bureau's psychologists. Or did you forget that a psych eval is regulation for an agent who's been abducted and tortured?"

"I didn't forget," Spencer said, but he felt himself slump slightly as he admitted, "I just wasn't thinking of it at the moment."

"Actually, I'm amazed Hotch didn't send you to a psychologist after what happened with SHIELD," Morgan went on.

"Because I wasn't abducted and tortured by SHIELD!" Spencer cried. Realising that everybody in the restaurant was suddenly staring at their table, he lowered his voice. "They just took me into custody and questioned me, they didn't hit me."

"You had a nightmare last night about –"

"Derek, don't." Spencer deliberately used his first name as a warning for Morgan not to spill the details about his nightmare to the entire team.

"Just sayin' that you've been through a lot lately, what with this abduction, SHIELD, and the whole de-aging thing," Morgan went on. "I'd have nightmares, too."

"I might have the occasional bad dream, but I can still do my job," Spencer stated.

"I wasn't suggesting you couldn't, man," Morgan said, but he looked contemplatively at Spencer for a long time before finally glancing away.


	19. Chapter 19

9 December 2011

JJ drove Spencer home and even carried his go-bag for him, although Spencer insisted on pressing the bell and pushing the outer door open at the sound of the buzzer. Hotch's apartment door opened as they came down the corridor, and Spencer found himself running ahead, eager to see Hotch again – but it was Jessica who stood there.

"Hi, come in, you're just in time for supper," Jessica said. "Hey, JJ, I thought Spencer was staying with Emily?"

"I was in the area and offered to bring him home," JJ said with a smile. "Here's his bag, and now I've got to get going, so good night, both of you."

"Thanks for the ride, JJ, and good night," Spencer said. He had just turned to ask Jessica where Hotch was when the man himself came into the dining area, wearing an apron and carrying a hot dish.

"Hotch!" Spencer exclaimed, going over to the table. He wanted to run over and hug the man, but Jessica passed by behind him, carrying his bag, and he repressed the urge.

"Hey, buddy, good to see you again."

"It's good to be back," Spencer said. "What's for supper?"

"Spaghetti carbonara. Dave gave me his recipe," Hotch said. "Jessica, can you tell Jack it's time for supper? Spencer, go wash your hands, and then we can eat."

They were soon seated around the table and Hotch dished up.

"Looks like you lost another tooth, buddy," he said to Spencer.

"Yeah, it came out while I was chewing on some –" Spencer stopped, realising that his explanation of duct tape would raise some awkward questions, and tried to rescue the sentence. "Apple."

Naturally, Hotch gave him a questioning look, but at least Jack didn't seem to notice.

"Did you put it under your pillow? Did the Tooth Fairy come?" he asked.

"No, I lost it," Spencer said, shifting on his chair at the word pillow and wishing he were sitting on one right then. "It fell out and, um, we were too busy to look."

"Didn't you write a note to the Tooth Fairy? That's what one girl in my class said she did when she lost a tooth at the swimming pool, and she got the money anyway!"

"No, I never even thought of that."

"Why were you too busy to look for it? What were you doing?" Jack stuck a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and sucked on it. The ends of the spaghetti flew up and smacked him around the lips, sending spatters of sauce all over his face.

"Oh, um, we were trying to solve a special kind of puzzle."

"What kind of puzzle?" Jack asked, and both Hotch and Jessica told him not to talk with his mouth full.

"The kind where you have a mystery, and you put the pieces together, and the picture gives you a big clue as to who the Unsub is." Spencer cringed when he realised which word he'd said, and glanced apologetically at Hotch.

"What's an Unsub?"

"Jack, what have I said about talking with your mouth full? And Unsub is short for Unknown Subject. It means the bad guy," Hotch said.

After swallowing, Jack said, "Cool! Did you bring the puzzle with you? Can I do it after supper?"

"No, I had to leave it there, it didn't belong to me."

"Dad, do you think Santa Claus could bring me that kind of puzzle for Christmas?" Jack asked. "I want to help catch the Unsub, too!"

"I don't know, buddy, we'll have to see," Hotch said.

"There were lots and lots of pieces," Spencer said. "Actually, it was Emily's puzzle, so it was for adults. I was just helping."

"I'm pretty good at doing stuff for adults," Jack said. "Dad and I play that game you got me all the time, and it's for adults, isn't it, Dad?"

"It's for ages eight and up," Spencer said. "That means older children, not adults."

Jack scowled, then sucked up another mouthful of spaghetti, splattering more sauce and making Hotch frown.

"Speaking of Christmas, Jack, have you written your list for Santa Claus yet?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah, but can I add something to it?" Jack asked. "Like an Unsub-Puzzle?"

"Well, you can write it down, but if Santa Claus thinks it's not the right present for you, he might not bring it," Hotch said, and Jack scowled again.

Jessica turned to Spencer. "Have you written a list for Santa Claus yet, Spencer?"

"No," he replied honestly, shifting again and glancing longingly at the couch in the living room where he knew there was a thick cushion just waiting for a sore bottom like his.

"You can write one after supper," Jack said. "Do you know what you want?"

"Do you need Aaron or me to help you write it down?" Jessica asked helpfully.

Spencer glanced at Hotch, who was not bothering to hide a smile, and said, "No, thank you, I know how to write."

"Oh." Jessica looked surprised.

"He's very advanced for his age," Hotch said. Spencer was reminded of Emily saying almost the same thing to Wagoner, and felt a quick jolt of cold dread.

"I can help you think of things to write!" Jack said. "You haven't got anything from Sword-Swinging Cats. And I'll bet you want some Legos, too."

"That sounds more like your list, Jack," Hotch remarked.

"I was just giving him some ideas, Dad."

Hotch and Jessica both smiled, and Spencer thought it was time to change the subject.

"Um, Hotch, where's everybody going to sleep to-night?" he asked. "Because there are only three beds, but now that I'm back, there are four of us."

"Well, Jessica's been sleeping in my bed, and I've been sleeping in your bed, but I can sleep on the floor instead," Hotch said.

"You can stay in my bed, and I can sleep in the sleeping bag." Spencer hadn't had any trouble sleeping on his side in the hospital bed, since none of his bruises went around the sides of his legs. He thought he'd be okay on the floor, too.

"No, he can sleep in my bed, and I'll sleep in the sleeping bag," Jack protested.

"Too bad we don't have four sleeping bags, then we could all sleep on the floor," Jessica suggested, smiling.

"Yay, one big sleepover!" Jack exclaimed.

"But since we don't have four sleeping bags," Hotch said, "we'll just have to flip a coin again."

"Maybe we should ask Santa Claus for some!" Jack suggested.

"Well, even if we did, they wouldn't get here until Christmas," Jessica put in, and Jack deflated visibly. "Awww."

Spencer won the coin toss, which meant he got the sleeping bag, and then Jack insisted that he write out his list for Santa Claus. Jack even took a piece of paper and helpfully printed _Spencer's Christmas List_ at the top in his best handwriting before thrusting it at Spencer. After much thought, with Jack hanging over him and becoming impatient, Spencer curled his free arm around the paper and wrote: _To be an adult again._ On the next line, he added: _Until then, a good supervisor._ And finally, as an afterthought, he wrote: _Gift certificate for book store._

Then he folded the paper twice and went into Hotch's office to find an envelope, resisting Jack's pleas to let him see and compare it with his own list. He was already yawning as he sealed the envelope, so he left it on Hotch's desk and went to bed.

He woke up screaming and became aware of two people in the same room with him, one of whom was a crying child in the top of a bunk bed. The other one, an adult, was standing up and leaning towards the child.

"NO!" Spencer screeched, fighting his way out of the sleeping bag. "NO! Don't hurt him! Leave him alone! You can hit me, but LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

"Spencer, easy now," the man said, but Spencer wasn't listening, he was planning how to get the man away from the child. He aimed a kick at the man's leg, but when it seemed to have no effect, he climbed up one step of the ladder to get better leverage, and pushed at the man's shoulder, then struck him with his fist. "Hit ME, not him! I'll scream for you! I can scream BETTER than him!"

"Dad!" the child cried protectively, and shoved Spencer away, hard. Spencer lost his balance and stepped off the ladder, getting one foot on the floor for a single moment before sitting down hard on his backside.

"OWWW!" he screamed, rolling instantly onto his side and starting to bawl. "Owwww, owwww!"

Then Hotch was there. "Spencer, are you hurt?"

And Jack came down the ladder of the bunk bed, too. "Spencer? Why were you attacking Dad?"

He realised belatedly that he'd been trying to push Hotch away from Jack, and looked up at them. Still sobbing, his heart racing, he wailed, "I was scared – but I was just dream – just dreaming. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Do you want a hug?" Hotch picked him up, but his hand was positioned directly under the bruising that Spencer had just aggravated. Spencer cried out even more loudly at the pain.

Then the bedroom door opened and Jessica peeked in. "What's going on? Is somebody hurt? Did Jack fall out of bed?"

"Jack had a nightmare, and then Spencer did, too," Hotch explained. "I'll take care of it, you go back to bed."

"Are you sure?" Jessica asked. "Jack, do you want to come cuddle with me?"

"I want Dad," Jack said, reaching out to hug Hotch and Spencer together.

"Okay," Jessica said, and retreated again.

"Can you show me where it hurts?" Hotch asked, and Spencer shook his head vehemently. He was not going to pull his pants down where Jack could see and get nightmares about being spanked, and especially not if there was a danger of Jessica coming back in and posing awkward questions. After a moment, Hotch said, "Would you like to sit on my lap, or on the bed next to me?"

"Bed," Spencer gasped between sobs, and kept his arms around Hotch as he sat down and positioned Spencer on his left hand side. Jack curled up on Hotch's right, hugging his father as well, and as Hotch put an arm around each of them, Spencer felt a twinge of jealousy. He suddenly understood Henry's possessive attitude, and was tempted for a single moment to push Jack away and snarl, "_My_ Hotch!" But then he felt ashamed about trying to take a father away from his son, and cried even more.

With Hotch murmuring reassurances to both of them, they sat like that for a while until Spencer managed to stop crying. His heart was slowing down now, too, and he was starting to feel almost relaxed again. Quietly, Hotch said, "I think Jack's fallen asleep again. Can I let go of you to put him back into bed?"

"Yeah," Spencer said. Hotch gave his shoulders another squeeze, then stood up to lift Jack back to the top bunk. Pushing his hair away from his face so that he could wipe his tears with the sleeve of his pyjamas, Spencer got up as well.

"Hotch?" he asked, remembering the feel of Wagoner's hand in his hair, both in real life and in the dream. "Can I get a haircut?"

"Sure, buddy," Hotch said, pulling the covers over Jack. "And you can sleep in the bed if you'd be more comfortable there."

"I'm fine if I sleep on my side." Spencer climbed back into the sleeping bag. "Can we get my hair cut as soon as possible? I don't like it this long anymore."

"I know a place where you can go in without an appointment. Jessica can take us to-morrow, how's that?"

"That'd be good. Thanks, Hotch." He watched Hotch settle down in the lower bunk, then said, "I'm sorry I attacked you. I had a bad dream."

"You certainly did. We can talk more about it to-morrow, but for now, thank you for wanting to defend Jack," Hotch said, which made Spencer feel a little proud, but also very guilty for having wanted to push Jack away and have Hotch all to himself.

"Fortunately for me, Spencer," Hotch went on, "you kick like a five-year-old boy."

Spencer gave him a quick smile of acknowledgement and closed his eyes.

The next morning, while Jessica was preparing to drive Jack to school, Jack whined for his father to come with him, so Spencer had to get into the car, too. It wasn't until they were back home again and Jessica had set up her laptop on the dining room table to do some work that Hotch said, "Come on, buddy, let's talk about that nightmare last night."

He took Spencer into Jack's bedroom and shut the door, then said, "You want to show me where you're hurt, Spencer?"

"Do I have to?" Spencer asked. "I've been checked out at a hospital, it's just bruises."

"No, you don't have to," Hotch said, and turned the chair away from Jack's desk so he could sit on it. "But you do have to tell me what happened."

Spencer saw one of Jack's stuffed animals peeking out from under the guardrail of the top bunk, and pulled it free. Sitting down crosslegged on the lower bunk, Spencer squeezed the plushie cat and told Hotch what had happened when he'd been abducted.

"So, um, can you make an appointment for me to get a psych eval so I can go back to work?" he finally asked, winding the cat's tail around one of his fingers and releasing it again.

"I'll go do that now," Hotch said, and went to his office to make the call. Spencer stayed where he was, wondering what he could do the entire day. He'd started to write a paper for publication, but he needed some sources that were in his apartment, and he couldn't exactly ask Jessica to drive him around to pick them up. Maybe he could convince Jessica to drive him and Hotch to the library, but Hotch would probably want to wait for Jack, so that wouldn't be until the afternoon. Then he remembered he needed to finish his latest letter to his mother, so he got down off the bed and looked in his bag for his pad of paper. He'd just pulled it out when Hotch came back in.

"You're in luck, you've got an appointment on Tuesday at one thirty," he said.

"That was quick." Spencer was truly surprised; he'd expected a long wait for an appointment.

"When she found out it was for you, Dr Forletta cleared a rather large space in her calendar," Hotch said.

Spencer imagined the psychologist eagerly rubbing her hands together at being allowed to examine a de-aged adult and taking extra time to poke and prod his experiences and emotions. It was a mental picture that made him frown. "Hotch, what if she recommends that I not go back to work?"

"Is there any reason why she would?" Hotch asked.

"Besides the fact that I'm five years old? What if that's enough for her? And if I can't come to work anymore, where would that leave me, Hotch? I can't ask you to take more time off work because of me," Spencer said. "You've missed so much already. But I don't want to go to childcare, either."

"A recommendation from a psychologist is just that, Spencer, a recommendation. Strauss and I will have the final word on whether you come back to work, and I can prove that you've been coping very well at work since your de-aging. So if that would be the only reason that Dr Forletta would want to suspend you, I will object," Hotch stated. "And if there's anything else, I'll help you deal with it. We'll figure it out, Spencer."

He waited for a response, and finally prompted, "Okay?"

"Okay," Spencer said, still a bit worried. After another moment of silence, Hotch spoke up again.

"So, how about we get your hair cut right after lunch?"

"Can't we do it now?"

"Jessica needs to work, and lunch would be a natural stopping time. But we went to the library yesterday, and I checked out some books I thought you might be interested in. You can read while you're waiting." Hotch indicated a stack of books on Jack's desk that Spencer hadn't noticed, and Spencer went over for a closer look, his mood brightening instantly.

"Thanks, Hotch!"

* * *

13 December 2011

The weekend passed. On Monday, Jessica drove Hotch and Spencer to the doctor for Hotch's check-up, all of them quietly rejoicing that he was cleared for work again, then went out for lunch. Then Jessica went home, and Hotch drove Spencer around to his apartment so that he could pick up his mail and gather anything else he might need or want. The next morning, Spencer endured the good-natured teasing of his team when he arrived with his hair cut almost as short as Hotch wore his. He worked on his paper in Hotch's office, since he wasn't officially allowed to do anything connected to the BAU until after his psych eval, and after lunch, Morgan drove him around to Dr Forletta's office.

In between the official evaluation questions, Dr Forletta managed to slip in a few of her own, claiming they were necessary to help her understand Spencer's unique situation. Spencer had expected something of the sort, knowing that he'd be doing the same thing in her position, and was determined to tolerate it as long as it didn't become excessive. As a result of one of her questions, however, the conversation came around to Ally and her resignation.

"I miss her," Spencer said. "She could be really serious, but she had lots of fun ideas for exercise. And she wasn't a hypocrite, she wanted me to eat the same healthy food that she ate. It actually tasted good – I miss that, too, a little."

"Have you found a new supervisor?"

"Not yet," Spencer said with a sigh. "I asked Garcia to check again to-day, but all the agents on medical leave are too badly injured or too sick."

"Sounds like Ally was an incredible stroke of luck in that regard."

"Yes," Spencer agreed. "But I can still do my job even now that she's gone. I did just fine in Oklahoma without a supervisor. I took my own breaks, and the team took turns making sure I got food at mostly the right times, and went to bed before I fell asleep on top of my notes. I think they liked having little breaks like that, too. Like Hotch said once, it cleared his head, and the team never complained. I got the impression they actually looked forward to it. If we get called out into the field again, I could probably convince Hotch and Strauss that I can work without a supervisor."

"I understand that having a supervisor was the condition on which you were allowed to come back to work at all after your de-aging," Dr Forletta said.

"Yeah, but I think I've proved I don't need that condition anymore."

"Your job is very important to you, especially now, isn't it?" she asked.

"I was just telling someone the other day that it's like doing a jigsaw puzzle," Spencer said. "I love finding the pieces and putting them together. Sometimes cases end with the Unsub getting killed, which, honestly, is sometimes the best outcome. Sometimes it's regrettable, but no matter what happens, I still think it's satisfying to solve the mystery that led us to him or her in the first place. It's an intellectual challenge that also helps people, a deeply fascinating way to make the world a better place, you know?"

"I know," Dr Forletta said with an encouraging smile. "I can hear your passion for it in your voice."

"I can still do it, even if I'm hidden away in a hotel room. It's a little harder, but it's still possible. Without the chance to do my job, I'd be wasting my intellect and all the experience I've gained. It's just my body that's been de-aged, I still have all my memories, all my knowledge. I can still help catch the serial killers and the kidnappers. Without my job, I'd be reduced to –"

"A child?" Dr Forletta suggested.

Spencer came up with a better analogy. "A piece of equipment that's temporarily useless, but only because it's been unplugged, not because it doesn't work."

"You're scared of being regarded as useless even though you clearly aren't?"

Squirming a little, Spencer finally admitted, "Yeah."

"To continue with your analogy, you'd feel like a high-speed computer that was not only unplugged, but also put into, let's say, an empty Lego box?"

Spencer smiled. "Yeah. Exactly like that. And –"

"Go on," Dr Forletta said, but when he continued to hesitate, she prompted, "Is there anything else about this scenario that worries you?"

Squirming again, Spencer stared down at her desk. "I'm scared the Lego box would be delivered to somebody who expects Legos and wouldn't even recognise the computer that they find instead, let alone know how to use it."

"And if we drop the analogy and talk in real terms, you're afraid of … ?" Dr Forletta asked.

After a long moment, Spencer finally admitted, "Being taken away from Hotch and – and put somewhere else where they don't know me and wouldn't know what to do with me. Like - like a foster family. Or childcare."

"Thank you for telling me that, I could tell it was difficult for you," Dr Forletta said. "I can tell you've developed quite a bond with Agent Hotchner. Now, I don't want to give you any false hope or empty reassurances that this will never come to pass, but I can't see anything happening in the immediate future that would result in you being taken away from him, let alone being put into a foster family. However, if such a situation does arise – and that seems very unlikely – and if I'm asked, I will recommend that Agent Hotchner continue to be your guardian."

"Thank you," Spencer said, looking up at her. Even with all the ifs, and with the memory of Hotch saying that a recommendation was only a recommendation, her statement still made him feel slightly better.

"And while we're on the subject of fears, how do you think you're coping after your abduction? Do you have nightmares about it?"

The evaluation continued until they used up two and a half sessions' worth of time and Spencer was starting to get restless. Finally, Dr Forletta suggested that she wanted to see him again regularly to work on exercises that would help him cope with PTSD. Aside from that, she added with a warm smile, he could return to work immediately and she'd send the necessary paperwork along as soon as possible. Once he and Morgan had left the office, Spencer leaped enthusiastically into a pile of snow at the edge of the sidewalk.

Laughing, Morgan said, "Kid, you're acting as happy as Clooney does whenever I get home."

"I am happy," Spencer announced, wading out and heading for the next snowpile. "I get to go back to work!"

"Only you could get excited about that, Pretty Boy, only you," Morgan said.


	20. Chapter 20

14 December 2011

When Spencer returned from his break on Wednesday morning, where he and Morgan had played a game of tag in the remains of the melting snow, he saw Strauss and Hotch both standing on the mezzanine in the bullpen, as though waiting for him.

"Dr Reid," Strauss said. "May I see you in Agent Hotchner's office?"

"Uh oh," Morgan teased quietly, but Spencer couldn't return his smile. Anxiously, he climbed the steps, wondering if it had something to do with Dr Forletta's assessment.

"I understand that you've been disregarding the rule we put in place about you having a supervisor, Dr Reid," Strauss said once he'd come in and shut the door behind him.

"It's actually been working out quite well so far," Spencer tried to assure her. "The team –"

But Strauss interrupted him. "You were abducted from your motel room and tortured, something that would not have happened if you'd had a supervisor there along with Ms Garcia."

"Actually –"

"I'm not blaming Ms Garcia, but it is not her job to look after you, and the presence of a third person in the room would have prevented that unfortunate incident. Now, I've turned a blind eye to you working here in the building without a supervisor, due to the difficulties in finding an appropriate subsitute for Agent Johnson, but it stops here. Dr Forletta and I have found an ideal candidate who is very willing to take over the position, so from now on, if you aren't working with your supervisor, you aren't working. Period. Do I make myself clear?"

"The Unsub could also have found a way to abduct me if I'd been alone with my supervisor," Spencer felt obliged to point out.

"Do I make myself clear, Dr Reid, or do I personally have to escort you to the BAU's emergency childcare centre?" she repeated.

"Perfectly clear, ma'am," Spencer replied, responding to the threat by folding his arms across his abdomen. He hadn't expected to be presented with a new supervisor like this.

Before he could ask who his new supervisor would be, Strauss went on. "Her name is Dr Jean Nadeau, and she's done consulting work for the Bureau, but one of her patients attacked her with a knife back in the summer, and she's been recovering ever since. Dr Forletta recommended her in your psych eval assessment, and after interviewing her myself this morning, I'm sure she'll do an excellent job."

"Is she physically fit?" Hotch asked. "Does she have any limitations we need to be aware of?"

"She has some small limitations that will not impact her ability to keep an eye on Dr Reid. And I've made perfectly clear that the de-aging machine has been destroyed and there is no chance of anybody ever getting into it again, so hopefully we will not have a repeat of …" Strauss hesitated for a just a moment. "The SHIELD incident."

"When will she start? Is she here to-day?" Spencer asked, wondering if he'd have to put off work until the next morning. Not that he minded working on his paper again, but what if a case came in? Would Hotch really abandon him at childcare?

"I've sent her to the conference room, you can go and meet her yourself," Strauss smiled and opened the door just as Garcia was about to knock.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am." Garcia sounded flustered as she stepped back, automatically making space for the older woman. Once Strauss had gone by, Garcia came forward again. "Sir, um, we have a case. And there's a visitor in the conference room?"

"That's Spencer's new supervisor," Hotch said.

"Oh!" Garcia's eyes lit up in delighted surprise.

"Gather everybody, and we can make the introductions quickly before you present the case," Hotch went on.

Spencer went to the conference room, wondering what Dr Jean Nadeau would be like. Would she have fun games in mind like Ally had? He hoped she wouldn't be overbearing or overprotective. But when he entered the room and saw her standing near the table, all such thoughts vanished from his brain, and all he could focus on was her identity. "Harper Hillman?"

She stared back at him for a long moment, searching his face, then finally said, "I haven't gone by that name for years now."

Coming in behind him, Hotch asked, "You two know each other?"

"It was a long time ago," she said, and then she turned her attention back to Spencer. "I didn't know if I was hoping it would be you, or if I wasn't."

The others were starting to come in, too, but Spencer could only move enough to let them go by. He just kept staring at her, seeing the face that was all too familiar and remembering what she'd done. She stared back, probably comparing his current form to her memories, too.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer finally managed to ask, but before she could answer, he turned to Hotch. "If she's supposed to be – Hotch, I can't do this. I'd rather –"

But he couldn't say "I'd rather quit," or even "I'd rather go to childcare." He just couldn't get the words out.

"Something wrong, kid?" Morgan asked, but Hotch addressed the team. "Could you give us the room, please?"

"No, wait, I'll go," Spencer said as the others turned to file out again. "You guys have to take the case. I'll … go."

He backed up until he bumped into Hotch, and then turned and practically ran out of the room and over to Hotch's office. Once there, he shut the door and sat down on the couch, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Harper Hillman. He hadn't seen her since high school; he'd spent almost a full school year trying to avoid her, trying to forget what had happened when she'd come up to him that day in the library. Now, recovering from his shock, he tried to imagine what evil, malicious twist of fate had sent her here, to Quantico, to Strauss's office, to be his new supervisor? Hadn't he been through enough already? And what had Strauss said? She was "an ideal candidate who was very willing to take over the position?" Why had she been willing? Did she want to take part in humiliating him again, this time in front of his team? He wanted to vow that he'd never allow that to happen a second time, but then he remembered he was even younger and weaker than he'd been back then. Fortunately, however, he had a team now, a team he could rely on to have his back.

Spencer was just thinking how much he especially trusted Hotch now, and JJ and Emily, too, when the door opened and Hotch looked in. "Spencer?"

"Yeah," he said, and Hotch came over to sit next to him on the couch.

"I put Dr Nadeau in Rossi's office," Hotch said. "She told me she did something terrible to you in high school, and asked if you'd give her five minutes to apologise before she left."

"Apologise?" Spencer repeated, surprised. He hadn't expected that. He'd spent the last eighteen years trying to forget, or at least not think of it, and had never once considered that one of his tormentors might feel sorry for what they'd done.

"You don't need to forgive her," Hotch said. "She said that, too."

Spencer sighed. "But if I don't forgive her and let her be my new supervisor, I'll never be allowed to work here again, and you might as well just –"

He stopped, and Hotch said, "I won't put you in childcare. I told you I wouldn't."

"I want to work, Hotch, but not with her!"

"May I make a suggestion?" Hotch asked. "Give Dr Nadeau her five minutes. Then when she leaves, we can tell Strauss it was her decision and not yours."

"All right," Spencer said, although he had a sinking feeling that Strauss would still be unwilling to let him continue work. He got slowly off the couch and walked down to Rossi's office. Harper was standing at the window, looking out over the bullpen, and turned to face him as he came in.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me," she said, putting a professional front on over a worried face. "Would you like to sit down?"

Spencer went around the desk and climbed up on Rossi's chair. Harper lifted her eyebrows in surprise, then smiled approvingly at his decision as she took one of the other chairs in the room. For the first time, Spencer noticed the scar that ran from the middle of her left cheek back to her ear.

"I've been thinking of this for eighteen years, and naturally, this isn't how I ever imagined it would happen," she began. She gave him a quick smile, which he did not return, then started again. "Spencer, I am so very sorry for what I did to you. I apologise that I ever wanted to get back at you for being so much smarter than me. You have no idea how sorry I am for being any part of what happened. I'm sorry that I lied to you to get you out of the library, and I'm sorry that I just stood there and watched and didn't help you. I'm sorry that I ran away and didn't come back later to check on you. I apologise that I didn't apologise back then, and if there's anything else I did that you remember that I forgot, then I apologise for that, too."

She stopped, then added, "I just wanted you to know that. I don't deserve your forgiveness and I don't expect you to give it to me. I'm glad you were willing to listen to my apology. If you're willing to give me a few more minutes, I can tell you how that day changed my life, or if you're not, I'll go away now, and we never have to see each other again."

"That day changed your life?" Spencer asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I know," Harper said, and Spencer shuddered inwardly at the memory of having heard her say those exact words in that exact same tone back in school, a day or two before she'd come to him in the library. She went on, "How dare I talk about me when that day was probably one of the worst days of your life, if not the worst? I—"

"No, that's not what I meant," Spencer interrupted, trying to shake off the memory. "I just never thought about it having any effect whatsoever on any of you."

"Well, after what I did, I looked at myself and I didn't like what I saw. When I went to college, I didn't want to be Harper anymore, so I started using my middle name, Jean," she explained.

"Names help form our sense of identity," Spencer said, falling back on facts because he didn't know what else to say. "In the Native American naming tradition, it was expected that people would change their names throughout their lives, especially at adolescence, but also later, according to what they had experienced and accomplished."

"I remember how you used to do that," Harper said. "Just suddenly start telling us everything we ever wanted to know about a subject, and then some."

"Sorry." Spencer grimaced. He knew it was one of the things about him that annoyed others the most, especially back then, and here he was, doing it again right in front of Harper Hillman, of all people!

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," Harper said, and yet it wasn't Harper Hillman anymore, it was someone who looked like her, occasionally acted like her, yet sometimes sounded and sometimes acted like Jean Nadeau. The similarities and differences were staggering.

Spencer didn't know what he'd expected when Hotch had first mentioned the possibility of an apology, but this was definitely not it. He felt torn between his first reaction, to tell her to leave, and curiosity about how else the incident had changed her. The result was an awkward silence, which Harper – Jean – eventually broke.

"Speaking of names, I was glad to take my husband's name when I got married, because I didn't want to be a Hillman anymore, either," Jean said. "And after that day, I wondered a lot about why I didn't feel good about what I'd done, or even vindicated, so I decided I was going to study psychology to find out. Eventually, I specialised in adolescents, hoping I could learn to help others like me, try to help them stop being bullies and focus on improving themselves instead of putting others down."

"And did you manage to help any bullies?" Spencer asked, becoming more intrigued.

"The one who gave me this, I didn't manage to help at all." Jean touched her cheek with her hand, and Spencer felt a horrifying jolt of reconigiton. She'd put her hand up in exactly that same way on that day, except she'd clapped it over her mouth instead of self-consciously feeling her face.

"But before that, a few," Jean went on, and tried a quick smile. "I hope."

"If you're specialised in adolescent psychology, how did you end up doing consulting work for the FBI?" Spencer asked.

"Dr Forletta is my mentor, and the person I go to when things get … hard." Jean put her hand down again. "She would have liked to have recruited me, I think, but she was happy enough that I chose to be available on occasion for adolescents involved in federal crimes."

"Past tense," Spencer said, forcing himself to focus on her words and not on the past. "You're not choosing that anymore?"

Jean stopped herself in the act of reaching up to her face again. "I'm … not sure. This – being your supervisor – Dr Forletta thought it might give me a chance to do something productive while having the opportunity to think about how I want to go forwards. She didn't know it was you. I wasn't sure myself. I mean, there must be other people out there named Spencer Reid."

Just hearing her say his name reminded him of how she'd approached him in the library. Spencer hesitated for a long moment, thinking of how it had felt before and after he'd finally forgiven JJ, and Jean waited patiently.

"You know what?" Spencer finally said. "What happened was a long time ago, we both survived, I'm glad it changed you for the better, and I forgive you, I really do, but I don't want to work with you."

"All right," Jean said. She actually looked relieved. "Thank for you listening to me, and thank you for your forgiveness. I hope everything turns out all right for you with this whole de-aging thing."

"Good-bye," Spencer said. "I hope you find your way forward."

She stood up and went out, and Spencer stared after her for a long moment, thinking that he might have liked Jean if he'd hadn't met Harper first. But he had, and no matter how much Jean had improved her personality, she still looked like Harper, scar or no scar, and she still moved like Harper. He'd be reminded of Harper every time he looked at her, and that wasn't something he could deal with on a daily basis, even if he had forgiven her. His heart sinking at the thought of what his decision would mean, Spencer got down from the chair and exited the office. Hotch was standing on the mezzanine with their go-bags, obviously waiting, and Spencer went over slowly.

"I think I just lost my job," he told Hotch. "I could hide out somewhere here until you come back, except that the way from the bullpen to the men's bathroom leads right by Strauss's office, and she'd probably catch me sooner or later, so you might as well just take me to the emergency childcare centre and get it over with."

"I won't take you to childcare, and you don't have to hide out, either. I'll call Jessica," Hotch suggested, but his tone of voice made it clear he knew that even that situation wasn't ideal.

Spencer heard footsteps behind him and knew it was Garcia before Hotch said her name.

"Spencer won't be going with us, so you don't have to go, either, unless you want to," Hotch told her.

"Oh!" Garcia exclaimed. "Did something happen, is something wrong? Are you staying, too, sir?"

"No, Hotch won't be staying, otherwise Strauss will find a way to fire him, too," Spencer said. Garcia looked horrified.

"You're not fired. You're not even officially suspended," Hotch said.

"Yet," Spencer corrected him.

"But it really would be better if I went. I'm sorry, Spencer."

"I know. It's okay," Spencer forced himself to say. "But you'd better call Jessica before the plane takes off without you."

Instead of reaching for his phone, however, Hotch asked, "Garcia, the new supervisor for Spencer didn't work out. Is there any chance you could take him until we get back?"

"Sure!" she volunteered, visibly cheering up at the very thought.

"If you don't have everything you need, you have Jessica's number and she's got keys to my apartment," Hotch said.

"No problem, sir!" Garcia replied. "You go on, sir, I'll take good care of him. Bye!"

"Bye, Hotch," Spencer said, trying not to sound too sad.

"Good-bye, Spencer." Hotch took his bag and went down the steps. Watching him go through the glass doors made Spencer want to cry. He bit down on his lip and recited twenty digits of pi, then looked up at Garcia and asked, "What about Kevin?"

He knew Kevin even less well than he did Jessica, and had no idea how the man would react to Spencer's presence, or being woken up in the middle of the night if Spencer had a bad dream.

Garcia's face fell. "We broke up last week. He wanted – well, I wanted – well, we just wanted different things. So, anyway, he won't be a problem."

Sad for his friend, but relieved that Kevin wouldn't be there, Spencer said, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me, too," said Garcia. "But thanks. Oh, you missed the briefing, so here's your file. I'll get you a comfy chair and we'll go to my office and get back to work."

That sounded good. Spencer took the brown folder and said, "I can get the chair if you take my go-bag."

"I think I can manage that." Smiling happily, Garcia let him go down the steps first while she picked up both bags. Spencer went over to his desk, put the file on his chair, and started to push it towards the glass doors. Just then, however, one of them swung open and Strauss marched in, focusing on him immediately.

"Dr Reid!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

What did it look like he was doing? "Moving a chair?"

"Your new supervisor just came by to tell me it wasn't going to work out, and now I find you trying to work without her when I expressly told you not to."

"I'm not working, ma'am." Not yet, anyway. Perhaps not ever again.

"You have a file on that chair, Dr Reid. You're trying to sneak off somewhere where you think you can hide from me. Dr Forletta and I went to a lot of trouble to get a new supervisor for you, Dr Nadeau was perfect, and you just refused to work with her for no good reason?" Strauss didn't raise her voice, but her anger was clearly audible.

Spencer hesitated. He was not about to announce to the entire bullpen that there was in fact a very good reason why he never wanted to see Harper – Jean – again, and so he just stood there, looking stupidly up at Strauss. She glared back, then reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Come on," she said, pulling him away from the chair.

"Please let go of me, I can walk by myself," Spencer protested, but Strauss didn't respond, and didn't release his arm, either.

"Ma'am? Where are you taking him?" Garcia asked, horrified. "Because I can look after him!"

"Certainly not, Ms Garcia. Dr Reid is suspended until Agent Hotchner returns, and I am taking him to the BAU's emergency childcare centre," Strauss announced, striding towards the door so forcefully that Spencer almost stumbled, trying to keep up. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, Dr Reid, but you have forced my hand. I told you that if you weren't working with your supervisor, you would not be working at all, and here I find you deliberately going behind my back!"

"Ma'am!" Garcia protested, tottering after them on her high heels. "His bag!"

Strauss jabbed the button for the elevator, then made a grab for the strap, but missed and had to try again. In an icy tone of rage, she said, "Thank you, Ms Garcia. Now kindly return to your office."

"Spencer, don't worry, I'll come visit you," Garcia promised, shooting Strauss a hate-filled glare before retreating.

"Thank you, Garcia," Spencer said, trying to slip his wrist free, but Strauss tightened her grip.

The elevator came, and Strauss dragged Spencer inside. When the doors had shut, she leaned down to him and hissed, "Do you have any idea how much trouble I went through to get Dr Nadeau cleared to work with you?"

Spencer was astounded to smell alcohol on her breath that wasn't completely masked by the mint she'd chewed, and wondered how much of her anger was due to the drink. She hadn't been like this a few months ago, when he'd first been de-aged and they'd had the original discussion of a supervisor for him. What had happened in the meantime?

"Ma'am?" he asked cautiously. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right!" Strauss didn't just snap, she practically exploded. After a moment, she took a deep breath and managed to modulate her voice back down to the tone of cold fury she'd used before. "Why wouldn't I be, after having spent the entire morning re-arranging my schedule to get Dr Nadeau in here, only for you to just say, 'Oh, no, I can't work with _her_!' It doesn't matter to you that other people might be bending over backwards to accommodate you, you just do whatever you damn well please!"

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Strauss pulled Spencer along behind her as she went out, marching down the corridor and turning the corner to a place Spencer had never had occasion to visit before. They stopped in front of a brightly decorated door, and Strauss reached up to press a doorbell set at about the height of her head. After a long moment, the door opened.

"This is Spencer Reid," Strauss said, yanking him forwards. Her voice was still projecting her barely-controlled rage. "He'll be staying here until his guardian – and nobody but his guardian, SSA Aaron Hotchner – comes to pick him up again."

"Spencer Reid?" the woman asked. Obviously, the rumours had reached here, too. "Dr Spencer Reid? Ma'am, are you sure this isn't a mistake?"

"No mistake. Go on, Dr Reid." Strauss transferred his arm to the woman, then held out his go-bag as well. With her free hand, she reached over and plucked his badge from his shirt and practically snarled, "I'll take this!"

Then she turned and strode away again.


	21. Chapter 21

"Dr Reid, come in, my name is Kristy." Kristy opened the door wider and Spencer stepped into a large, airy children's playroom where he could see two children, a girl playing with a doll and a boy climbing on a plastic slide. "Is there anyone we can notify?"

"No," Spencer admitted sadly. He bit down on his lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"Who's this?" Another woman came forward from where she'd been in an adjoining room.

"This is Dr Spencer Reid," Kristy said, emphasizing the "doctor" part. The other woman's mouth dropped open in shock. "Dr Reid?"

"You might as well call me Spencer," he said.

"Spencer, I'm Jill." She smiled warmly down at him, but Spencer didn't miss the quick glance she threw over his head to Kristy which clearly asked, _What are we going to do with him? _

"You don't have to worry about me," Spencer said quickly, trying to sound upbeat and not as though he were going to cry. "I'll just find a quiet place to sit and read. I have a few books in my bag."

Unfortunately, he'd left all the research for his paper at Hotch's, and if he wanted it, he'd have to ask Garcia to call Jessica to get the keys and go around and get it. And now that the team was on a case, Garcia would probably be working overtime with the rest of them. It was the most trivial thing, but it still threatened to send tears to his eyes. He bit his lip again, then unzipped his bag and felt around until he'd found one of the books on the bottom.

"I'll take your bag to the bedroom," Jill offered, pointing to a door on the far right side of the playroom. "It's just over there, you can get it any time."

"Thank you," Spencer said. He glanced around. There was a soft looking mat in one corner, with lots of cushions piled in a heap, and he went over with the intent of making himself comfortable there.

"Oh, Spencer, wait –" Kristy said, but Spencer had already taken a cushion to tuck behind his back. There was a cry from underneath, and then a screaming boy exploded out of the pile.

"My beaver lodge!" he screeched. "My beaver lodge!"

Oh, no, not another Henry. As Spencer extended the pillow so the boy could take it back, the boy rushed awkwardly towards him, using both his feet and his hands, then sank his teeth into the side of Spencer's shin, getting not only Spencer's pants leg, but also some of the skin underneath. Spencer cried out, and when Kristy grabbed the boy to pull him away, the boy's bite tightened. Kristy had to tickle him a little to get him to open up, and Spencer pulled his leg free.

"Spencer, are you all right?" she asked as she straightened up.

"I don't think it went through," Spencer said, rolling up his pant leg to check. No blood, but it really hurt.

"Jonas, no biting," Kristy told the boy wriggling in her arms. "Time-out chair."

"No!" Jonas exclaimed, trying to escape, and almost succeeding. He looked to be about six or maybe seven years old and a little taller than Spencer. "My beaver lodge!"

"Time-out first, then beaver lodge."

"I'm sorry, we should have warned you faster," Jill said. "Jonas is … going through a beaver stage at the moment. Do you want some ice for that?"

"Yes, please," Spencer said. "And can I go sit in the bedroom?"

"Sure," she said, and walked him over, then opened the door and turned on the lights. It was a large room with three beds on one side, all divided from each other by partitions that ran from the wall almost to the foot of each bed. There were shelves on each partition, and Spencer's bag had been put on the bottom shelf by the bed closest to the door. On the other side of the room were three cribs, a rocking chair, and a big, soft-looking recliner. Spencer sat down on "his" bed, leaned back against the wall, and took a closer look at his leg. The bite was starting to bruise.

"I'll be right back with the ice pack," Jill said, and when she returned, she laid it on his leg. "It'll be lunchtime in twenty minutes, I'll come take it off then – or you can take it off yourself."

She'd scarcely gone when Kristy came in with Jonas.

"Jonas, say sorry to Spencer," she said.

"I sorry you not a beaver, Spencer," Jonas said.

Kristy looked as though she were going to do what Garcia called a face-palm, and clarified, "Say 'I'm sorry I bit you, Spencer.'"

"I sorry I bit you, Spencer," Jonas repeated in an obedient monotone. Kristy sighed a little, smiled apologetically at Spencer, and took Jonas out again.

Spencer thought Hotch might find the incident funny, so he took out his phone and dialled, but only got Hotch's mailbox. After leaving a quick message, he saw that his phone needed charging, too. He found the cable and the charger easily in his bag, but all the outlets in the room were not only high up on the wall, but also occupied by plugs from lamps and nightlights, or covered by child-proof devices. In the end, he had to ask Jill to help him. She plugged it in, but the power cord was too short for her to put the charger anywhere else but on the topmost shelf.

The day went by slowly, with Spencer's reading being interrupted by lunch and then later by an obligatory play session outdoors in the little playground. Spencer wiped the moisture off a swing with the sleeve of his coat and spent the time swinging. Then it was shift-change, when new caretakers named Mina and Connie came in and Spencer had to participate in the afternoon ritual of circle-time, which apparently served to introduce the new adults to the children while getting the new women up to speed on what had happened during the morning.

At suppertime, they were all sitting at the low, round table when the doorbell rang, and Mina got up to answer it.

"Here's your mother, Jonas!" she exclaimed happily when she came back.

"Beaver-Mommy!" Jonas cried, flinging himself out of his chair and running over. First, he bent down and smacked the floor with one hand, then he straightened up and let his mother spread her arms and gather him into a hug. "Come here, my little Jonas-Beaver! Did you have fun in Yearlingcare?"

"I made beaver lodges. Pillows and blocks!" Jonas told her.

"Yes, apparently he spent all morning under the cushions, and in the afternoon, he used the blocks to make a beaver lodge for his beaver toy," Connie explained.

"Did he bite anyone?" the mother asked, putting Jonas down again.

"He didn't bite me to-day!" the other boy announced proudly. "I would have bitten him back!"

"Jonas bit Spencer, but he apologised."

"Oh, Jonas," the mother sighed, then came around the table to crouch down next to Spencer. "I'm very sorry that Jonas bit you. I hope you're okay."

"It's all right," Spencer said. "At least he didn't leave a scent mount on me, too. Did you know that beavers –"

"Yes, I know that," Jonas' mother interrupted very quickly and very firmly. More quietly, she hissed, "Please don't talk about that, you'll give him ideas."

"Sorry," Spencer said with an apologetic grimace. It was, he supposed, very possible that Jonas would try to imitate scent mounds by making mudpies all over the place and then peeing on them, or worse.

"Beaver-Mommy, tree bark!" Jonas whined. "Tree bark!"

"Did you eat your Yearling supper? You remember the rule, you can only have tree bark if you eat the Yearling food here at Yearlingcare," his mother asked, looking at the two caretakers for confirmation.

"Yes," Jonas said, and Mina and Connie both answered in the affirmative as well.

"All right, then you can have one strip of tree bark when we're in the car."

"I ate tree bark to-day. Jonas said tree bark tastes good, but it was yucky," the other boy said.

"That's because you're not a beaver," Spencer told him.

"My tree bark tastes good!" Jonas said, and yanked his mother's purse away from her arm. Before she could grab it back, he'd pulled a package of gummy worms from the side pocket and was reaching in. "My tree bark!"

"Want tree bark, too!" the girl hollered, getting off her chair to rush over.

"Me, too!" the other boy exclaimed.

Jonas stuffed three worms into his mouth at once, the brightly coloured ends dangling down his chin. His mother snatched the package out of his hand, then came to the table and picked out a worm, which she offered to the girl. She laid another worm then in the open palm of the other boy, and gave Spencer the last worm before neatly folding the package flat and sliding it back into her purse. Spencer put the worm next to his plate for dessert after he'd finished his supper. "Thank you."

"All right, Jonas-Beaver, you've had your Yearling supper and way too much tree bark, now it's time to put on your outdoors beaver-pelt and come home to the family lodge," Jonas's mother announced.

Jonas, who had been following his mother around the table, made a sneaky grab for Spencer's gummy worm without anybody else noticing, then raced to the coat rack. While he was getting his coat on, his mother was addressing the caretakers. "Thank you so much for dealing with him again to-day. I know you're all hoping his dad gets out of the hospital soon, and so am I. And once I can get to the store again, I'll make it up to all of you."

"Don't worry so much about it. He's actually very pleasant when he's not biting," Connie assured her.

The mother looked pained anyway, then said, "Say good-bye to Yearlingcare now, Jonas-Beaver."

Jonas slapped his hand on the floor again, and Spencer recognised that he was acting in imitation of a beaver tail on the surface of a pond. Then Jonas said, "Good-bye, Yearlingcare."

"Good-bye, Jonas-Beaver," Mina and Connie chorused with the ease of much practise, waving as well.

Almost as soon as they had gone, the other parents arrived, and soon there was only Spencer left in the centre. At bedtime, he got into his pyjamas and got into the strange bed, which looked and felt and even smelled different than the bunk bed at home. Remembering home reminded him of Hotch, and of his phone, so he got out of bed again to retrieve it. His hand didn't quite reach the top, however, so he dragged his go-bag out from the bottom shelf to make room for his foot, took a grip on the second-highest shelf, and tried to step up. The shelf came away in his hand and he fell backwards on the bed, managing to knock the bedside lamp over as well.

Mina came running in. "Spencer, what are you doing?"

"I just wanted to get my phone, but this shelf wasn't secure," Spencer said, putting the shelf to one side so he could pick up the lamp. "I think one of the brackets is either missing or broken."

"These shelves are not for climbing, whether all the brackets are there or not," Mina told him, slotting the shelf back where it belonged. Spencer's phone rang, and she picked it off the charger, then handed it to him. "You should have asked for help."

"I'm sorry." Spencer felt ashamed as he admitted, "Sometimes I forget."

Thankfully, Mina went out, and Spencer answered the phone with a joyous, "Hotch!"

"Spencer, are you all right? I've been trying to call you since we landed, but I only got your voicemail. Garcia told me that Strauss literally dragged you off to childcare, and I was worried."

"My phone was charging, and I'm okay, Hotch, but Strauss had been drinking," Spencer said. "I could smell it on her breath. And she seemed disproportionately furious about the situation."

"Was she aggressive?" Hotch asked.

"She grabbed my arm and took my badge, but she didn't hurt me," Spencer reported. "She was just so angry! She said she'd bent over backwards to arrange things, but I'm not sure she really meant me. She kept accusing me of sneaking around, going behind her back, trying to do something she'd told me not to – I think something else was the stressor, Hotch. Maybe something to do with her family?"

"I knew she was having problems, but I thought she was getting help," Hotch said. "I'm sorry you got caught up in it, Spencer. I'll have to contact the director over this, I can't do anything else from here."

"Where are you?" Spencer asked. He hadn't even had time to look inside the file before Strauss had arrived.

"New Mexico. Listen, Spencer, I can try to get Jessica to pick you up if you want, if it's really bad there." Hotch didn't sound enthusiastic about the prospect, however.

"But you'd prefer not to have to," Spencer said.

"I spoke to Jessica to-day, she said she's got a project for work due on the 23rd, because of Christmas. She didn't come right out and say it, but I know it's stressful for her to have to take care of Jack at the same time."

And if Jessica was stressed, it meant extra stress for Hotch as well. Spencer decided not to tell him that he'd been bitten in the leg and it had left a bruise. Instead, he tried unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn, then said, "I, uh, I can stay. It's not quite as awful as I thought it would be. I just wish I hadn't left all my research home, but it's okay, I don't have any deadline for my paper."

"Thank you, Spencer, that's good to hear." Hotch immediately sounded more cheerful. "I guess you must be tired now, huh?"

"It's been a long day," Spencer agreed, and yawned again.

Hotch's smile was audible in his voice as he said, "Then I'll say good night, and I'll try to call you to-morrow around this same time?"

"Maybe a little earlier if you can make it. Good night, Hotch, and good luck on the case. I'd offer to help, but, uh … "

"I know. Sleep well, Spencer."

But Spencer woke up some hours later from a nightmare that involved a beaver as large and as furious as Strauss, dragging him off to not only bite him, but also rip his clothes off with her claws and tie him, naked, to one of the trees near the beaver lodge, where all the other beavers had already assembled …

"NO! NO! HELP ME!" Spencer screamed, and when a female shape appeared and put a hand on his shoulder, he screamed again and threw himself onto the floor. "DON'T DO THIS!" And then he whined, "Please! Please!"

"Hey, hey, Spencer, calm down, it was just a dream," a female voice said. "Calm down, it's okay, you're fine."

The female shape came around to where he was huddling. "It's okay, honey, it was just a dream. You're awake now, and everything's okay."

"Stay away!" Spencer screeched, kicking out when the female dared to approach. "Don't come any closer! Don't touch me!"

"I can turn on the light," the woman suggested. "The light will chase the bad dreams away."

"Help me! Help me!" Spencer pleaded, in case anyone else was listening. The woman might be Strauss, disguising her voice. Or there could be beavers hiding in the shadows. The woman stood up and flicked the switch, revealing herself to be a woman in her forties, built remarkably similar to Strauss, but with dark hair instead of blonde. He'd never seen her before.

"Who are you?" Spencer demanded.

"My name's Molly, I'm here to take care of you in the night."

Spencer glanced around, slowly recognising where he was. The bed he'd fallen asleep in, the walls, the partition to the next area. Across the room were cribs, a recliner, a rocking chair. Windows with the curtains pulled. No beavers. No Strauss. Nobody trying to slash his clothes off and tie him up, just this kindly-looking woman. The fear ebbed slowly out of him.

"You had a bad dream," Molly said, coming closer with a hand extended. "Come sit with me in the rocking chair until you feel better."

Spencer scooted backwards a little, and she stopped. He didn't know her, and as tempting as a rocking chair would be, she wasn't Hotch. "No, thank you. I can go back to sleep on my own now."

He got up and climbed back into bed, looking around for Boney, then found the sweatshirt half hidden under his pillow. Pulling it out, he quickly traced the fluorescent lines with one finger, then laid down on his side, keeping his hand on the picture of the dinosaur. The pounding of his heart was already slowing down, too. "I'm okay. Just ... can you leave the light on for a few minutes, please?"

"Sure," Molly said, then waved a hand in the direction of the recliner. "You want me to sit over there for a few minutes, too? Keep you safe?"

"You don't have to stay, I'll be fine." He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. At least he hadn't cried, but, oh, how he missed Hotch.

16 December 2011

When he woke up again, the overhead light was off, but daylight was just starting to come through the windows. Spencer got out of bed and opened the door to the playroom.

"Good morning, Spencer," Kristy greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning," he repeated, and went to the bathroom. When he came back, Jill said, "A friend of yours was just here. Penelope Garcia?"

Spencer glanced around, but Garcia had obviously come and gone. "She was here? You should have woken me up!"

"I offered, but she said she didn't have time. She just wanted to drop a few things off for you." Jill lifted a plastic bag, and Spencer rushed over to see what was inside.

"My research paper! Excellent! I have to call and say thanks!"

"And get dressed, and come have breakfast," Kristy prompted.

Spencer dumped the collection of papers out onto his bed. Garcia had not only packed his research, but also the pad he used for writing to his mother. He grabbed his phone and dialled Garcia's work phone.

"The name Penelope means weaver, and this Penelope is hard at work weaving a digital net to help you catch the Unsub," Garcia announced. "So gimme another strand to work with."

"Hi, Garcia," Spencer said, and Garcia squealed. "Spencer! Hi! I'm sorry I didn't have time to come in and chat, but did you get the stuff I left for you?"

"Yes, and thank you, Garcia, I will love you forever," Spencer replied.

"Hotch called me last night and told me to pick them up for you. Hey, how is it down there? Do you want me to organise a jail break and smuggle you up to my office before Strauss gets in?"

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to risk running into Strauss again," Spencer said. A hungover Strauss might be even worse than a drunk Strauss. "It's actually not too bad here, and it'll be a lot better now that I can work on my paper, so thanks again."

"You're very welcome, Junior Genius. Have fun!"

"You, too. Bye!"

Spencer changed into clean clothes, then went out to the playroom again. Jill was putting a plate on the round table for him, and when he sat down, she took off the cover. There were scrambled eggs on top of a waffle, with a strip of bacon on the side, and Jill gave him a little container of syrup to open along with a carton of milk. When he'd finished eating, Jill remarked, "So, Molly said you had a nightmare last night."

"Yeah," Spencer remembered.

"It sounded pretty intense, from what she said."

"Yes," Spencer agreed. "I had a very bad day yesterday and my subconscious was sorting it all out, but now that I've got my paper to work on, to-day should be much better."

Kristy smiled. "Jonas bit me once, too, but ice cream helped me feel better."

Spencer thought that a beaver bite was the least of his worries, but he didn't say that. Then the doorbell rang, and Jill got up to let Jonas and his mother come in.

"His father will be released from the hospital on Monday, so I'll take that day off to get things settled. And to-morrow's the weekend, so let's hope this will be his last day here for a while," the mother remarked, then turned to her son. "Beaver-Mommy has to go to work now, so Jonas-Beaver can have lots of fun here in Yearlingcare, okay?"

"Beaver lodge," Jonas announced, pointing to the pile of cushions.

"Hey, Jonas, have you had breakfast already?" Jill asked.

Jonas didn't answer, but his mother sighed and said, "No, we didn't have time for him to eat at home."

"No problem, we've got plenty of good Yearling food right here," Kristy said, standing up. "I'll get you something, Jonas."

"Okay, now remember, don't bite anybody, and I'll see you this afternoon." Then the mother gave Jonas a hug. "Goodbye, I love you, Jonas-Beaver!"

Jonas wriggled out of her embrace, then leaned down and smacked his hand on the floor. "Goodbye, Beaver-Mommy!" Then, with scarcely a pause, he walked over to the mat and lay down on his back. "Beaver lodge!"

"Yearling food first," Jill said, going to retrieve him. "Then beaver lodge!"

There was still plenty of room on the other side of the table even while Jonas was eating, so Spencer asked, "Can I work on my paper out here?"

"Sure, why not?" Kristy said. Spencer got the research-related papers from the bedroom and spread them out on the table where he'd been sitting before, then started work. He was interrupted by the arrival of a new girl about two years old, who sat down directly opposite him to eat her breakfast, and spent the entire meal staring at him. Then, just when he was gettng into the flow of things again, it was time to go outside. Spencer gathered his things into a neat pile, then went to get his coat and boots. He was the first one out, and then Jonas ran past him, wearing shoes but no coat, and yelling, "Beaver dam, beaver dam!"

Jill raced after him with his coat, and just as Spencer was getting on the swing, he heard her ask, "Where did you get that paper, Jonas?"

With a sinking feeling, Spencer abandoned the swing and ran over to where Jonas was crouched down near the climbing frame. There was a puddle of water in a depression at the foot of the ladder, and in the puddle were all his papers, with Jonah pushing them down to soak them evenly.

"My paper!" Spencer exclaimed, plucking the pages out of the puddle. "My research!"

"My beaver dam!" Jonas yelled, trying to pull the papers out of Spencer's hands. Spencer tightened his grip, and Jonas lowered his head and bit savagely into the knuckle at the base of Spencer's thumb. Spencer screamed and reacted instinctively, letting go of his papers, kicking Jonas hard in the shin, then slapping him in the face with his free hand. As his head snapped away, Jonas took a piece of skin with him, and Spencer shrieked in pain. He gave Jonas an extra push, and Jonas fell onto his behind, screeching as well.

Crying, blood dripping from his hand, Spencer bent down to gather up his papers. Kristy was there as well, helping Jonas up.

"Jonas, Spencer, come inside," she said, keeping a firm grip on Jonas's wrist. Spencer led the way indoors, and while Kristy took Jonas to the time-out chair, Spencer went into the bedroom and dumped the dripping pile of paper on his bed. Still sobbing, he ripped off his coat, noticing how blood flew whenever he moved his hand, just like blood splatters at a crime scene – a crime scene that he currently was not investigating. The association with his lack of work made his heart hurt along with the physical pain and anger, and he laid down on the bed, wrapping Boney around his hand and crying even more.

Eventually, Kristy came in. "Spencer?"

Still sobbing, Spencer pulled his hand out of the bundle of sweatshirt and held it out. "He almost bit my thumb off!"

"Oh, honey, why didn't you tell us you were hurt instead of hiding in here?" Kristy took a closer look. "Your thumb is still there. I'll get the first aid kit."

She came back a few moments later and sat down next to him. "Let's get it cleaned up first, all right?"

She sprayed some disinfectant on a gauze pad and wiped it gently over the wound.

"Yowww!" Spencer wailed. "That stings!"

"All done. There was a lot of blood, but it doesn't look too deep. Can you still move everything properly?" When Spencer demonstrated, she went on, "Then it should heal just fine. Now we'll put some salve and a bandage on it."

By the time Kristy had finished wrapping it up, Spencer's sobs were slowing down, but his hand was still throbbing, and he whined, "I want some ibuprofen!"

"Do you want to come with me while I get you some? Some ice might help, too."

"Ice cream?" Spencer asked. The hope was enough to get him to stop crying.

"We don't have any here."

"But you said ice cream helped you feel better after Jonas bit you," Spencer reminded her, feeling the next wave of tears come.

"Oh, honey, I meant that I had some ice cream after I went home," Kristy said.

The disappointment was too much, and Spencer started to sob again. "I want to go home again, but I don't know when I'll be able to! I have to wait for Hotch to finish the case, and it usually takes days, and he's only been gone twenty four hours! One time we had a case that took over a week! I could be here until Christmas!"

Kristy gave him a quick hug. "Come on, honey, let's go get you that ibuprofen."

"Is Jonas still out there?"

"He's in his beaver lodge. I don't think he'll come out for a while." Kristy took Spencer by the hand and led him through the playroom to a door on the other side that led to a small pantry kitchen.

"Is he autistic?" Spencer asked, his voice hitching only a little.

"As far as I know, his parents are on the waiting list to get an appointment to have him diagnosed. You know how long these things can take." Kristy used her badge to open the lock on a cabinet above the workspace, then took out a bottle of children's ibuprofen and measured out a dose for him.

"Have a drink of water, too," she urged, pouring some into a cup. Spencer drank it all and then sighed miserably.

The two-year-old girl had wandered over in the meantime and was staring at Spencer again. When she saw him put his cup down, she reached out one hand. "Dwink! Dwink!"

Kristy got her a drink, too, then shooed them both out of the kitchen. The girl tugged at Spencer's arm, surprising him, then asked, "Play?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do. "Sure. Let's go play."

He played with blocks with her for a while, which really just meant that the girl knocked everything down that Spencer built. When she wandered off to find a doll, however, Spencer escaped and went back to the bedroom. His pile of paper was making a wet spot on the bed, and although he thought of picking the pages apart and setting them out to dry individually, it just didn't seem worth the effort. Sadly, he picked them up and carried them out, heading for the kitchen.

"Spencer, what do you need?" Jill asked.

"I just wanted to throw this away," he explained. "And I left it on my bed, and now the bed is wet, too."

"Well, we can change the bed, but I'm sorry about your paper."

"I can write it again," he said. "It will just take time."

And time, he thought, was one thing he currently had too much of.


	22. Chapter 22

20 December 2011

That night, Spencer had another nightmare that included a beaver form of Harper Hillman, and increasingly more terrifying dreams each night after that, even though Jonas left on Friday evening and did not come back. Each night, Spencer woke screaming and thrashing, and each time, he stayed awake a little longer before being able to settle down again, Finally, on Tuesday afternoon, Hotch called and said that the case was over, they'd caught the Unsub, and they'd be arriving that evening. Spencer was almost too impatient to wait out the day, and going to sleep was out of the question, even though it was way past his bedtime. He wanted to be wide awake for a big hug when Hotch came to pick him up.

At the time that Spencer had hoped Hotch would arrive, his phone rang. He answered it excitedly, hoping that Hotch would say he was in the parking lot already, but instead, Hotch said, "Buddy, it's icy out here, and we had a little fender bender, so I'm going to be later than I thought."

"No!" Spencer whined, looking around the playroom in disbelief. He'd opted to sit at the round table while waiting, with his shoes on and his coat ready, instead of laying down on the bed and risking falling asleep. "Hotch, I'm so tired of being here, I want to go home!"

"I know you do," Hotch said. "I want to go home, too. It might take us another thirty to forty minutes, so please try to be patient."

"The amount of patience I have is proportional to my physical age, so I've used it all up since I've been here," Spencer told him.

"You can go to sleep if you're tired," Hotch said. "You won't miss anything. I'll wake you up when I come."

"I'm not tired, I just want you to get here," Spencer said.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Hotch promised. When he'd hung up, Spencer sank back down in his chair in disappointment. He wouldn't cry. It was silly to cry about Hotch being late, especially if it was due to the weather. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to cry.

Strauss took hold of his wrist in an iron grip and led him out of the childcare centre into a corridor that led to the cell block at SHIELD, except that the cells had bars instead of the thick steel doors, and every member of his team was on the inside of the bars, standing silently and watching as Strauss pulled him along. But when he saw that Hotch was not in a cell and was standing next to an open door, Spencer stopped trying to escape Strauss's grip and reached out with his free hand.

"Hotch!"

But although Hotch extended his arms, Spencer could tell that he didn't have a hug in mind, that he was going to throw Spencer into the dark cell. There were horrible things in there, huge beavers, teenagers, SHIELD agents, and Wagoner, too, all waiting to attack. Panicked, Spencer fought back, kicking, hitting, and screaming, "No, Hotch, don't leave me here!" His foot connected with something and Hotch dropped him, and it wasn't the cell at all, it was the playroom, and -

"Don't leave me!" Spencer sobbed, curling up to protect himself. "Hotch, don't leave me in here with them!"

"Spencer, Spencer, it's okay, you were dreaming." Something touched his shoulder, and he screeched, but instead of an attack, it was a hand stroking his arm, moving to stroke his head, then moving back to his arm. Eventually, he realised it was Connie, repeating soothing words as well. "It's all right, sweetie, it was a bad dream, everything's okay now."

"Hotch!" he wailed again. "Hotch!"

"I'm here, buddy," came a familiar voice, and Spencer uncurled and looked up and over to where Hotch was standing with one hand to his face, trying to stem a nosebleed. "And I'm not leaving you anywhere."

"Hotch!" Spencer cried again, scrambling up off the floor and lunging to throw his arms around him. "Oh, Hotch!"

"That must have been quite a nightmare," Hotch said, and Spencer had never heard his voice sound so nasal.

"Uh huh," he agreed.

Mina approached with a handful of tissues, and Hotch applied them gently to his nose. Mina also offered one to Spencer.

"Did I kick you?" Spencer asked, leaning back a little to look up at him while wiping his tears away. "Hotch, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, buddy," Hotch said. "I don't think anything is broken."

Spencer noticed he didn't say anything about kicking like a five-year-old boy, and felt even worse. "You should sit down, you might have a concussion."

"I'm pretty sure I could tell if I had a concussion," Hotch said. "I do have a bit of experience, you know."

Still sniffing a little, Spencer turned to Mina. "Do you have something cold in the kitchen? If you put something cold on the back of his neck, it will stop the bleeding."

"Really?" she asked. "I'll get an ice pack, then."

"Here, Hotch, come sit down, and let me loosen your tie," Spencer said. Hotch settled himself awkwardly in one of the small chairs at the table and allowed Spencer to work at his tie and the top button of his shirt. When Mina came back with the ice pack, Spencer put it down the back of Hotch's shirt.

Hotch shivered at the touch, but didn't protest, and after a moment, he took the tissue from his nose. "Huh, that really works. Where'd you read about that, Spencer?"

"Actually, there was a boy in my first grade class who was always getting nosebleeds, and my teacher used to make me take him to the school nurse. She always had an ice pack ready to use like this," Spencer explained. "If you don't have ice, you can use anything cold. Lots of people use their keys or the blade of a table knife. It's the mammalian dive reflex; when the cold hits the nerves in your neck, the blood vessels constrict, and the blood is shunted away from the skin – in this case, the inside of the nose – and redirected to the vital organs."

"Well, it seems to have done the trick," Hotch said. He reached up and pulled the ice pack out of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Hotch," Spencer said again, looking at the mark on Hotch's face that would turn into a bruise. "It was such a scary dream."

"Well, you've made up for it with this," Hotch asked, indicating the ice pack and then gingerly applying it to his face. "But, Spencer, why didn't you tell me you've been having nightmares since you've been here?"

So, he'd been talking to the caretakers before waking Spencer up, and had probably found out about the biting, and the loss of Spencer's paper, and everything else that Spencer hadn't mentioned.

"Because there's nothing you could have done," Spencer said, and before Hotch could point out that Spencer could have called him, he added, "And you had enough to worry about with Jack and Jessica."

Hotch looked like he wanted to say something, but changed his mind at the last minute. Instead, he smiled a quick, sad smile and said, "Come on, buddy, let's get you home."

* * *

21 December 2011

Spencer opened his eyes and looked around the familiar bedroom with a deep sense of relief. It was so good to be back. There was movement in the top bunk, and then Jack came down the ladder. He stopped and leaned closer to Spencer, and when he saw that Spencer was awake, he grinned. "Hey, I missed you! Where were you?"

"Um, I had to go stay with a special substitute nanny for a few days."

"Did you have fun? Jessica and me went to the movies on Saturday, it was really fun. We had popcorn and Coke – but don't tell Dad, he doesn't let me have Coke."

"I think it's time for breakfast," Spencer said, not wanting to admit that the only fun he'd had in childcare was when he'd made a Christmas card for his mother with potato stamps and paint. He got out of bed and started dressing while Jack ran to the bathroom, then went into the kitchen. "Morning, Hotch."

"Hey, Spencer, how'd you sleep?"

"I didn't have any nightmares," he said. "Not that I remember, anyway."

"That's good. I'm glad," Hotch said.

"How's your face?" Spencer looked up at the bruise spreading over Hotch's left cheek.

"It's fine."

Jack came in just then. "Dad, you're coming to my Christmas concert to-morrow, right?"

"If I'm here, I'll definitely be coming," Hotch said. "But you know that I might have to go out on a case at any time."

"Even at Christmas?" Jack asked. "Would you have to work on Christmas, Dad?"

"If I'm home on a holiday like Christmas, I don't have to go to the office, but if I'm out somewhere trying to catch the bad guys –"

"The Unsubs, Dad!" Jack was obviously proud of his recently acquired vocabulary.

"—the Unsubs, then I can't take a break, because the Unsubs aren't taking a break, either."

"Christmas can be the worst time for Unsubs, it can bring out the worst in them. They might hate the holidays," Spencer put in, and Jack stared at him, completely flummoxed by the idea. "What? But everybody loves Christmas!"

"Not everybody," said Hotch. "A lot of times, the Unsubs don't have a happy family like we do, Jack. Holidays can be hard for them because sometimes bad things happen even though they were hoping for good things, and so they don't always have good memories."

Jack thought about the concept while he ate, then said, "Spencer, you know how you have to live with us because your mom is in a special hospital and can't take care of you?"

"Yeah," Spencer said slowly.

"So you don't really have a happy family like me and Dad," Jack went on.

"Just because my mother is in a special hospital doesn't mean we aren't happy," Spencer said. "She loves me, and I love her, and we've always tried to do what's best for each other."

"So … you do have good memories of Christmas?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Spencer said. Some of his memories were good, anyway. And then he realised where Jack was taking the conversation, and said, "Jack, are you asking if I'm going to become an Unsub because I'm not with my mom right now? Because the answer is no, I'm not. You and your dad are like – um, being here with you is like – well, it's enough to give me good memories."

"Okay, that's good." Jack looked relieved. "Because then Dad would have to hunt you down, and he'd catch you, because he's really good at his job, and then you'd go to jail, and I wouldn't want that."

"I wouldn't want to go to jail, either," Spencer said, glancing over to Hotch, who looked touched and slightly chagrined as well. "And you're right, your dad's the best. I wouldn't want him hunting me if I were an Unsub."

"You're going to be with us for Christmas, right? Dad said you were. It'll be way fun! Dad and I already went shopping to get you –"

"Jack, it's supposed to be a surprise, remember?" Hotch warned.

"I wasn't going to tell him what we bought, Dad! I was just going to say presents. And Santa will bring him something nice, too. Spencer wrote a list for him, but he wouldn't let me see it, so it'll be a surprise for him, and for me, too."

"Okay, buddy, if you're done eating, then it's time to go," Hotch announced. "It's not Christmas yet, and you still have school."

"Christmas is way more fun than school," Jack grumbled. "We're probably just going to rehearse for the Christmas concert again, but I know all the songs already. You're coming to the concert, too, right, Spencer?"

"If your dad's here to take me, I'll definitely come," Spencer said.

They drove Jack to school, and then continued on to the BAU. Spencer sat quietly in the back seat, thinking about how close he'd come to admitting that he saw Hotch as part of his family, not simply as a father-figure, but as a father. He hadn't spent quite enough time with Jack to regard him as a brother – although he was close – but Hotch was definitely the dad he wished he'd always had. Spencer just couldn't admit it – not just yet. It might remind Hotch of his willingness to adopt Spencer, and Spencer wasn't ready to seriously discuss taking that step. He still thought of himself as an adult, and being adopted by Hotch would only confirm his child status to the world. Despite the official SHIELD declaration, he was still holding out hope for a re-aging machine. He also hoped that Jack wouldn't get too attached to young Spencer, so that he wouldn't miss him too much when he disappeared.

At the BAU, Spencer had to get a visitor's badge because Strauss had taken his. And when they arrived at the bullpen, Garcia came out of her office with a gift bag in one hand. "Hi, Spencer, welcome back to the world of adults. Sir! What happened to your face?"

"Spencer kicked me by accident during a nightmare," Hotch explained.

"Ouch! That must have been a really bad dream. But, um, maybe this will help you feel better. Not that I looked deliberately, it was already open. It's from an Agent Grant, she came by yesterday and left this for you as an apology."

She handed over the gift bag, and Hotch said, "Agent Grant?"

"Renee Grant, from counterterrorism. There's a note, see?"

Hotch opened the folded piece of paper attached to the handle of the bag and read aloud, "To Agent Hotchner and Spencer, please accept this heartfelt apology for my son biting your son. We're so sorry. Renee and Jonas Grant."

"Somebody bit Jack?" Emily asked, having come up from behind.

"Somebody bit you?" Hotch asked at the same time, looking down at Spencer in alarm.

"Didn't they tell you that, down in childcare?" Spencer asked.

"No, and neither did you," Hotch remarked.

Spencer looked briefly away. "You had enough to worry about."

"Is that how your hand got hurt?"

Spencer held it out. The bite wound was healing nicely – he was surprised that Hotch had noticed. "Um, yeah. What's in the bag?"

Hotch pulled out a bottle of red wine, a bar of expensive chocolate, and a medium-sized box of Legos which he handed to Spencer. "I think these are for you."

The box showed something to do with Captain America and SHIELD, which made Spencer wince inwardly. "I'll swap you for the chocolate. I'm sure Jack would appreciate this more than I would."

"That's a pretty big apology," Emily said, looking appreciatively at the wine as Hotch and Spencer exchanged gifts.

Spencer wondered if Jonas' mother spent all her time feeling as though she had to apologise to everybody about her son. He remembered how his own father had wanted him to at least _appear_ less cerebral and more 'normal.' In comparison, Hotch and JJ never had to apologise for their children being what they were and were instead always ready to say how proud they felt of their offspring. The differences made him feel vaguely sad.

Out loud, Spencer said, "Jonas is probably somewhere on the autism spectrum and spends all his time pretending to be a beaver. I wish he'd chosen to be a seahorse instead; they don't have teeth. I thought he was going to bite my thumb off the second time."

"The second time?" Emily asked with a grimace. "Where'd he get you the first time?"

"My leg."

"Spencer, you darling little cinnamon roll that's been chomped on twice!" Garcia exclaimed. "I offered to break you out of there, why didn't you take me up on it instead of hunkering down like that guy on the toilet in _Jurassic Park_?"

Spencer had no idea what she was referring to, but he did know his own reasons for not trying to escape childcare. "Because Strauss had already suspended me, and she might have suspended you, too. And I didn't want to risk losing my job completely, either. I mean, normally I'd know I could go into teaching or consultancy or anything else right away, but now – "

He indicated his younger self, then said, "And speaking of Strauss, Hotch, can we get my badge back?"

"Yes, we can do that," Hotch said.

"Oh, sir, Strauss isn't here anymore," Garcia said. "She's on leave for an unspecified amount of time, if you know what I mean."

"Is she in a treatment program?" Spencer asked, remembering the smell of alcohol on Strauss's breath.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" Garcia exclaimed. "She's apparently been having trouble ever since she found out her son was following in her alcoholic footsteps, and it all got worse when she tried to get him into a treatment program and he ran away. Last I've heard, he's still in the wind."

"I thought it might be her son," Hotch said quietly, almost to himself. Spencer nodded, and even though he didn't like Strauss all that much, he could still imagine her guilt and anguish at her son's behaviour.

"So anyway, we have a new Section Chief, a Robert Garibaldi. I told him you'd be back to-day."

"Rob Garibaldi? We worked together in the field office in Seattle; I didn't know he was in Quantico," Hotch said, and there was a note of pleasant surprise in his voice. He put the wine and the box of Legos back in the bag, then set it on Spencer's desk. "It'll be good to catch up with him."

He led the way and Spencer went after him. The door to Strauss's office was open, and Spencer could see that her name plate had been removed, but nothing had replaced it yet. Hotch knocked and stepped in.

"Rob!"

"Aaron!" The man behind the desk, tall and broad, stood up and came around for a manly hug. When he pulled back, though, he said, "I was sorry to hear about Haley. Are you doing all right?"

"Thanks, yeah. You're still together with Karen? How are the kids?" At Garibaldi's affirmative nod, Hotch went on, "Rob, this is Dr Spencer Reid."

"Oh, I've just been reading about you," Garibaldi replied. Spencer gave him a wave, but Garibaldi put out his hand anyway, lifting his eyebrows when Spencer did not reciprocate.

"It's all true, sir," Spencer said, thinking he meant the de-aging.

"Sir down." As they did so, Garibaldi lifted a file from his desk. "It's all true? You really were insubordinate to Strauss, refused to act in accordance to the conditions she'd set out, rejected the supervisor that she appointed, then deliberately went behind her back in an attempt to continue working on a case although she had revoked her permission because you did not fulfil the requirements to be working at all?"

"What?" Spencer gasped. "No! That's not how it happened … sir."

"Relax, Agent, I'm just quoting what Strauss wrote here." Garibaldi smiled, but Spencer still felt provoked.

"It's Doctor," he said.

"Pardon me?"

"It's Dr Reid, not Agent Reid," Spencer clarified.

"Well, then, Dr Reid, tell me what really happened."

Spencer recounted everything, quoting every one of Strauss's words. Garibaldi asked a few questions to clarify, then said, "Well, I won't apologise for Chief Strauss, but she was under a lot of stress due to incidents in her private life which were apparently aggravated by a flare-up of an existing substance abuse problem."

Spencer shared a knowing glance with Hotch.

"Your file tells me you're a good agent, you bring positive, tangible results, and you're a real asset to the BAU. Before last week, Strauss's evaluation of you was that nothing has changed in that regard since your, ah, de-aging and that the supervisor program should be maintained in its original form in order to ensure the continuation of these positive results."

"We can agree with that," Hotch put in before Spencer could explain how well he worked without a supervisor.

"Good," Garibaldi went on. "Dr Reid, could you satisfy my curiosity as to why you refused to work with Dr Jean Nadeau despite her recommendations?"

"No, I don't think I could, sir," Spencer replied, a little tartly.

"That wasn't a request, Doctor."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I thought it was a question, and I didn't think my reason for refusing would satisfy you, sir, that's why I said no."

"Reid," Hotch warned, in the voice that said _don't push it too far_.

"Tell me, and that's an order," Garibaldi said.

Spencer's heart sank, but he took a deep breath, avoided looking at either man, and tried to keep his voice emotionless as he recounted what Harper Hill and the others had done to him at high school. When he finished, he expected Garibaldi to react by saying how silly it was to be affected by something that had happened eighteen years before, but instead, Garibaldi leaned back in his chair and stared down at his desk for a long moment. Then he said, "Yeah. Bullies. I know the damage they can do."

Then he visibly pulled himself together and said, "Okay, let's all keep looking for a new supervisor, but in the meantime, you may continue working here at the Bureau if your teammates agree to take on the role. You will keep to your scheduled breaks and work hours, with somebody accompanying you at all times, and when you are not working, you will leave your desk and make it clear that you are off the clock. You will not go into the field without a supervisor. Is that clear?"

"Sir, may I say something?" Spencer asked.

"Go ahead."

"I can work quite well without a supervisor. I take breaks by myself, a member of the team goes with me for lunch, and I can stop work at the right time without being reminded. I'd like to request a probationary period of, say, six weeks in which I prove that I can keep to the conditions without needing to be supervised every minute of the day."

"Request denied," Garibaldi said. "And don't ask again."

"Sir, if it's about me being abducted, I was in the room with a second person, who just happened to be our technical analyst," Spencer pointed out. "Would it have made a difference if the second person had been my supervisor? Or if the Unsub had come in and shot them both before abducting me? Just having a supervisor isn't enough to ensure I won't be abducted a second time."

"No, it's not, but it's a start," Garibaldi replied. "Look, having a supervisor is for your safety and ours. The Bureau is responsible for your safety while you're working. You say you can take breaks by yourself? What if you get hurt while you're outside alone?"

"I always have my phone with me," Spencer said. "I could call for help, like I did when I was abducted."

Garibaldi did not look impressed. "What if you bang your head and you're unconscious? Or get hit by a car? Or say you twist your ankle and you're crawling towards the building to get help. What if another employee comes along and molests you before help can arrive? Don't think it can't happen here, and that's not the only thing that can. I've seen instructors prey on trainees, for instance, and some agents bully their subordinates or anybody else they can get away with tormenting, and we're talking about adults here. I don't want to be the one who gets kicked into unemployment because I said yes, an employee with the body of a five-year-old boy can take care of himself alone in an environment full of adults."

"I never thought of being molested, sir," Spencer admitted, realising belatedly that he should have, especially after Wagoner.

"You're speaking from privilege, Dr Reid. You've got a great team here, but not everybody is so lucky. My son –" Then he stopped. "Well, that's neither here nor there. You will have a supervisor and you will not go anywhere alone on FBI property, not even to the bathroom. Is that clear now, Dr Reid?"

"Yes, sir," Spencer replied.

"All right, then, here's your badge, now get back to your desk and get to work."

"Thank you, sir," Spencer said, pulling off his visitor's badge and stuffing it into his pocket, then replacing it with his real one.

"Aaron, stop by any time and we'll catch up further," Garibaldi said.

"I will. Great to see you again, Rob."

When they were in the hallway, Hotch leaned down a little and Spencer braced himself for some comment on what had happened when he was twelve, but instead, the man said quietly, "Garibaldi's second son was bullied at school, and he killed himself when he was thirteen. There was a sexual component to some of the later incidents that they only discovered afterwards."

"I didn't know," Spencer said. "I'm sorry."

"He's a good man. Try not to antagonise him, Spencer."

"I won't. And I'm sorry," Spencer said a second time.

"You know he's right about what could happen if you aren't supervised. I should have given that aspect more consideration. When I think of all the things that have happened even when you did have somebody watching over you, then I can only say we've been incredibly lucky so far." Hotch opened the door to the bullpen and when they'd arrived at Spencer's desk, he said, "Maybe it's time we told Jessica the truth, so she can take care of you if I'm ever out in the field and you're not allowed to come. You two know each other a little better now."

"She won't be happy about being lied to for so long, even if it was a lie of omission."

"I know. I should have been truthful with her from the beginning." Hotch looked unhappy at the prospect of telling her now. "You had a good idea back then, Spencer, when you suggested somebody on medical leave. I just wish we could find somebody as suitable as Johnson was."

"Most people aren't on medical leave as long as she was, or else they're in the hospital," Spencer said. "But what about somebody who was suspended? Would they be suitable? I mean, it's not exactly a reward, sitting around and watching me."

"It would depend on the reason for their suspension," Hotch mused. "But it's an idea. We'll talk to Garcia about the search at lunch time."

He picked up the gift bag with the wine and the Legos and went to his office, and Spencer got back to his files, happy that Hotch had chosen not to address the bullying incident that Spencer had revealed. Hopefully, he never would. The morning passed quickly, and after lunch, he and Hotch stopped by Garcia's office to run the new search parameters.

"It's the happiest time of the year, sir," Garcia said without enthusiasm. "Nobody's on suspension. Lots of people have the flu, one agent's in the hospital recovering from a hysterectomy, another one from some sort of major kidney infection. Sorry, Spencer."

"Well, we don't have to go into the field yet," Spencer said. He hoped they wouldn't until after Christmas.

* * *

What do you think of the way I'm portraying Jack? Does he sound too precocious, or is he realistic?


	23. Chapter 23

The next day, Hotch and Spencer had to leave the BAU early to get to Jack's Christmas concert on time. Sitting in the auditorium, Spencer remembered when he'd been forced to participate in a similar concert with the children his own age, even though he'd already been doing fifth-grade work by then. Neither of his parents had come; his dad had been too busy and his mom had been too anxious to leave the house that day. Spencer hadn't minded, especially not when his group had exited the stage and the boy behind him had given him a push that made him stumble. Then he thought about Ally's brother Gabriel and his three children, and felt sad that Gabriel would probably never see any of them perform in anything.

Jack was grinning nervously when he came on with his class, but sang without hesitation or overdoing it. Spencer was surprised to see that Paul got a small solo part in one of the songs, and even more surprised to hear his perfect boy soprano voice. He was very good, and he knew it, too, smiling and taking a small bow when the conductor's gaze was elsewhere.

After the concert, Hotch found Jack and gave him a hug of congratulations. "That was great, buddy."

"I was a little bit scared with all those people looking at me," Jack admitted. "But then I saw you, Dad, and it was okay."

Hotch hugged him again, not saying anything.

"You sang very nicely," Spencer said after Hotch had let Jack go.

"Thanks."

Paul came up and gave Jack a small, friendly punch in the arm. "See, Jack, nothing to worry about! It went great!"

"Yeah!" Jack said, filled with confidence after the fact, and returned the friendly punch.

"Hey, you know that birthday party invitation I gave you to-day?"

"Yeah!" Jack said, then turned to his dad. "It's Paul's birthday right after Christmas—"

"On the twenty seventh," Paul put in.

"-and he's invited me to his party! We have to get him a cool present and not something that he just got for Christmas, either!"

"We can do that, and thank you for the invitation," Hotch said.

Jack took the prompt. "Yeah, thanks, Paul! It's gonna be fun!"

"You sang very well, Paul," Hotch remarked.

Paul straightened up and announced proudly, "I might even get to sing a full solo when my sister has First Communion. I won't have any problems with it. Some people get stage fright, but I never do."

He gave Jack another small punch in the arm, and Jack looked faintly hurt for just a moment before he pretended not to notice, and punched back.

"So anyway, that invitation is just for you, not for him," Paul said, pointing at Spencer. "Crybabies aren't invited."

"Paul?" a woman called out from some feet away, gesturing anxiously at him. "Paul, you need to come here and say thank you!"

"See ya to-morrow, and then at my birthday!" Paul said, and crashed into another kid while trying to get to his mother.

Jack gave Spencer an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry you're not invited."

"It's okay," Spencer said. "He's your friend, not mine, and I wouldn't want to go, anyway."

"Yeah, but he shouldn't have called you a crybaby," Jack said. "You don't cry all the time."

Not _all _the time, Spencer thought, but aloud he said, "I'll bet Paul cries sometimes, too."

"He says he doesn't, not even when he gets hurt."

"Actually, I think he does, but he won't admit it because he thinks it will make him seem weak," Hotch said, which made Jack stop and think.

Spencer didn't want to talk about Paul anymore, and changed the subject. "Hotch, can we get some supper now? I'm starving."

"Ooh, yeah, can we go out to Kentucky Fried Chicken and get some Extra Crispy and Coke and coleslaw?" Jack suggested.

"Coca-coleslaw?" Hotch asked, and Jack giggled. "I didn't say that!"

"Nice try, Jack, but no Coke," Hotch said sternly, but with twinkling eyes. "We've got water and milk and juice at home. Does chicken sound good to you, Spencer?"

"And the mashed potatoes and gravy? Yeah," Spencer answered.

"Can I hold the chicken bucket on the way home?" Jack wheedled as they walked out of the auditorium.

"I don't know, buddy," Hotch said. "The last time you held the bucket, you ate all the extra-crispy topping before we even got home and left me with nothing but the meat."

Spencer laughed, and Jack squirmed guiltily, but pleaded, "I promise I won't this time. Spencer can watch me and make sure!"

"I think I can trust you, even without Spencer." Hotch reached out and ruffled Jack's hair, making Jack smile, then took his hand, and reached out his other one for Spencer. They walked to the car together.

* * *

23 December 2011

The next morning, Spencer woke up to a female voice singing, "Oh, everybody's got a Sword-Swinging Cat, yours is skinny, mine is fat, what's he doing with that hat, oh, everybody's got a Sword-Swinging Ca-aaaaat!"

She ended it with a long, drawn-out note and Jack giggled from the top bunk. "Aunt Jessica, you are so funny!"

Jessica? Spencer scrambled out of bed and looked up at her. "Where's Hotch?"

The laughter had disappeared from Jack's voice as he asked, "Did Dad have to go on a case in the middle of the night?"

"Yes, he did," Jessica said, not singing any longer. "I'm sorry, but yeah. He got a call and had to go."

"Right before Christmas?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so, Jack. He said to tell you that the Unsubs don't always take a break at Christmas, and this is one of those times."

"Yeah. Because they don't have happy families and good memories," Jack said. He sounded sad, but resigned. "And Dad's the best one at catching them."

"Did Hotch say anything about me?" Spencer asked. Had Hotch told her about the de-aging machine?

"He asked if I could watch you, too," Jessica said. "He said you're very well-behaved and won't give me any trouble."

So Hotch had gone off with the barest minimum of explanation. Even though he knew in his head that he couldn't go out in the field because they hadn't found a supervisor yet, Spencer's heart still felt sad at being left behind.

"All right, now that you're both up, get dressed and let's have some breakfast."

Hotch often took the time to cook breakfast, but with Jessica, the menu was faster and easier. She put frozen waffles in the toaster, and when they popped up, she slathered them quickly with butter and strawberry jam, laid a slice of cheese on top, and served them with half a banana each. Spencer regarded his waffle dubiously. He'd never eaten cheese with jam before, and wondered how she'd come up with such weird combination. Jack had no hesitations, however, and after a moment of watching him eat without spitting it out in disgust, Spencer also took a bite. It was surprisingly good.

"All right, got everything ready for school? Then let's go," Jessica urged, even though Spencer could see that Jack would be earlier than usual. It was the 23rd, so she must be under pressure to get her project done for work. No wonder Hotch had had to reassure her that Spencer wouldn't be any trouble. Spencer followed obediently as they went out the door, and didn't even protest when she took his hand to lead him to the car, even though she let Jack walk on his own.

After they'd dropped Jack off at school and had gone home again, Jessica crouched down a little so she could look Spencer in the eye, and said, "Uncle Aaron tells me you're very intelligent and you like to read. Now, I have to finish a project on the computer for work to-day, and it's really important, so I'd like it if you could go read quietly somewhere and not bother me until lunchtime, okay?"

"Okay," said Spencer. He went into his bedroom and settled himself at Jack's desk. Although he'd started re-writing his paper after the beaver dam disaster, he hadn't finished it yet, so he worked steadily through the morning until his phone beeped. Thinking for one excited moment that it was Hotch, he hastily pulled it out, then slumped when he saw it was only the alarm, telling him to take a break.

Thinking that he actually did need to get the wiggles out, Spencer stood up and walked from the door to the window and back again, but that was boring. He couldn't jump on either of the bunk beds because there wasn't enough headroom, but then he realised he could jump off of them. Quickly, he pulled his blankets from the lower bunk and folded them in half on the floor, then added his pillow and Jack's to create a makeshift mat. Then he climbed up the ladder, crouched on the guard rail, and leaped down. Encouraged by his perfect landing, he jumped again and again.

He was just climbing happily up the ladder for the fifth time when the door burst open and Jessica shrieked, "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Spencer froze. In his excitement, he'd forgotten all about her and her project. "I – I'm sorry! I was just –"

"You said you'd read quietly! Aaron said you wouldn't give me any trouble! And now you're making more noise than a two-ton kangaroo and I can't concentrate!"

"I'm sorry!" Spencer said again, suddenly frightened that she would come in and slap him, or worse. He felt suddenly as vulnerable as when Wagoner had been approaching with the riding crop. In an attempt to placate her, he said, "I forgot! I won't do it again."

Jessica just stood there, glaring, and Spencer thought he might have to force himself to move, get himself out of the paralysis of fear, but instead, his body leaped into action on its own, fueled no doubt by panic. He slid down the ladder and reached frantically to gather up the pillows, watching her the entire time in case she made any movement towards him. "I'm putting them away now, I won't jump anymore, I won't make any more noise."

Taking a deep breath from between gritted teeth, Jessica said, "Just be quiet from now on, okay?"

"I'll be quiet," Spencer promised, and Jessica went out, closing the door behind her. As quietly as he could, Spencer put the pillows and blankets back where they belonged, then sat down at the desk again. His heart was racing and it took a few minutes before he felt calm enough to continue, but then he got back to work and was eventually surprised by the next alarm on his phone.

Lunchtime. He was hungry, but he didn't want to disturb Jessica again. Easing the bedroom door open, he tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, and then to the kitchen for a glass of juice. As he drank it, he looked around for a quick, easy, and quiet snack, then saw that Jessica had come in.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," he said quickly. "I can – I can go back to my room."

"You're fine, you didn't disturb me. And I'm sorry I shouted at you. I was in the middle of a very difficult problem, but I've solved it now. Do you want some pizza? I can order some."

"I like pizza," Spencer said warily.

"Anything you don't want on it?"

"No anchovies or tuna fish or any other kind of seafood," Spencer said.

"Yeah, I don't like seafood, either. I usually get Pizza Hawaii, will you eat that?"

"Yes, that's good. I'll just – uh – wait in my room until it's here." Spencer put his empty glass in the sink and escaped into the hall. His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket, but waited until he'd closed the bedroom door behind him before answering.

"Hi, Hotch!"

"Spencer, hi. How are you getting along with Jessica?"

"Fine," he said. Mostly.

"I didn't have time to tell her the whole de-aging story, but I'll back you up if you've told her."

"No, I haven't said anything. I didn't want to distract her."

"Yeah, all this came at the worst possible time for her. Listen, buddy, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you myself that I was leaving, but the call came close to midnight and you were asleep. I didn't want to take you to emergency childcare, either, because of your nightmares there."

"Thanks, Hotch," Spencer said. "I'm actually making good progress on my research paper, and, um, I'm trying to be quiet so Jessica can work, too, so it's okay."

"Good. Look, we've got a high-profile kidnapping here, all the children of a senator in Massachussetts, and the death of their nanny. I hope we can solve it soon so everybody can get home for Christmas, but you know how these things go."

"I know," Spencer said, not caring about Christmas, but wishing that he could be on the case instead. "I wish I could help."

"I wish you could, too. I've got to go, but I'll call again this evening and say good-night to you and Jack, okay?"

"Okay. Good luck," Spencer said.

Spencer and Jessica ate their lunch together at the table, but neither of them spoke. Spencer could tell Jessica would rather be eating in front of her computer and was only being polite because of him. Her mind was distinctly elsewhere. When he'd finished eating, Spencer went back to working on his paper, and when his phone chimed for his afternoon break, he quietly took out a box of Jack's Legos and spent half an hour building. It wasn't the action that his body craved, but it would have to do. He was clearing away the unused Legos when he heard an indistinct shout from Hotch's office.

Worried that something terrible had happened, Spencer ventured out into the hall and carefully approched the open door. He didn't want Jessica to take it out on him if it turned out she'd lost all her data or had some other horrible computer-related disaster. But when he peeked in, he saw that she was stretching one hand triumphantly to the ceiling and quietly chanting, "Yes, yes, yes!" to herself.

Then she caught sight of him and grinned. "Spencer! I've just finished, and it's perfect! You can make noise now – you can make all the noise you want!"

"Congratulations," Spencer said.

"Hey, I've got an idea. I'm really sorry that I shouted at you, so how about I make it up to you by buying you an ice cream sundae at McDonald's?"

"You already apologised at lunchtime," Spencer pointed out.

"Well, this can be part of my apology, too. And a thank you for staying quiet the rest of the time. Also, I really want an ice cream sundae after all this work. We'll just have time before we pick up Jack, so come on. What kind of topping do you want?" She smiled down at him.

"Strawberry," Spencer told her, and smiled back.

The next day was Christmas Eve day, and after breakfast, Jessica announced that they would be making cookies. She already had the dough ready, and set out a selection of cookie cutters before rolling it out. Jack and Spencer took turns sinking the cutters into the dough, while Jessica used a spatula to scoop up each cookie and slide it carefully on the baking tray. She only mangled a few of them.

"That gingerbread man looks like an Unsub got it," Spencer remarked, reminded of the body in a certain case, and it was only after Jessica shot him a warning glare that he realised what he'd said.

"Unsub cookies!" Jack exclaimed, and Spencer couldn't help correcting him. "Technically, that would be a victim cookie."

"Let's not have that kind of talk, please," Jessica said. "We are making Christmas cookies here, not working for the BAU."

But Jack grabbed for the gingerbread man cutter and pressed it into an open section of dough. "I wanna make Unsub cookies and then eat them!"

"That would make you the Unsub," Spencer pointed out. "You'd be a cannibal."

"One more word about Unsubs and I will take that cookie cutter away," Jessica said.

Jack tried to make one more cookie with the cutter, but there wasn't quite enough room for him to get it completely on the dough.

"Oh, no, this Unsub's missing an arm and a leg!" Jack crowed. "Aunt Jessica, do we have red frosting? For blood?"

"What did I say about Unsubs?" Jessica asked.

"Maybe a wolf bit his arm and his leg off," Spencer suggested. Jessica gave him a challenging look and he hastened to add, "The gingerbread man ran away because everybody else was chasing him, but then he met up with a wolf. That's actually part of the story, you know, except it's usually written that the wolf eats him with one bite."

"Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man," Jack chanted.

"Then the gingerbread man asked the wolf to carry him across the river while he sat on the wolf's nose so he wouldn't get wet," Spencer said. "But when they got to the other side, the wolf tossed the gingerbread man up into the air, then opened his mouth and caught him in his teeth."

Jack ended the story with an enthusiastic "CHOMP!"

Jessica used one hand to grab the cookie cutter away and her other hand to crush the two-limbed gingerbread man back into a ball of dough. She even plucked up the other gingerbread men cookies from the baking tray and recycled them as well.

"Hey!" Jack protested.

"I was only telling the story," Spencer pointed out, which earned him another glare.

"Spencer, you're the one who started this, but it ends here. Jack, you can use the Christmas tree shape, and Spencer, you may have the star shape," Jessica announced firmly. "Nothing else! No Unsub cookies, no victim cookies, and no talking about biting off arms and legs! Is that clear?"

"Yeah," Jack mumbled.

"Yes," Spencer said. "Sorry."

She went into the kitchen and put the gingerbread man cutter on top of the fridge, but when she came back to roll out the dough scraps, the telephone rang. Frowning, she went to answer it. "Oh, hi, Aaron! No, everything's good, we're making cookies." Pause. "Sure. Jack, your dad wants to talk to you."

Jack ran over to the phone "Dad! Guess what! It was so cool! We were making Unsub cookies! Spencer started it!" He paused and listened, then laughed. "No, really, they were only gingerbread man cookies." Pause. "But then Aunt Jessica got mad and now we can only make tree cookies and star cookies." He listened again. "Yes, Dad, I'll be good. No more Unsubs. Does that mean we can't use red frosting, either? In case Aunt Jessica thinks it's blood?" Pause. "Okay, I'll save some for you! Love you, Dad!"

Then, suddenly, he said, "Hey, Spencer, Dad wants to talk to you."

Spencer took the phone. "Hi, Hotch. How's the case going?"

"Spencer, listen, I want to send you a picture of some numbers and see what you can make of them," Hotch said, "We think the kidnapper had an accomplice in the household and they were communicating in code. Can you have a look when you've finished with your cookies?"

"Oh, yeah, Hotch, thanks!" Spencer exclaimed when he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket. He loved numbers, and was especially pleased that Hotch was including him in the case, even in such a small way.

"Call me back when you have something," Hotch said. "And save some cookies for me. No Unsubs, though."

"Jessica mashed them all, but I'll save you some stars. Bye, Hotch."

They cut out cookies until there was only enough dough left for a tiny misshapen snowball. Jessica had been baking the first sheets in the meantime, and when she'd put the last one in the oven, she said, "How about I put on a show for you boys to watch while the cookies cool down and I have a chance to make some frosting?"

"The Sword-Swinging Cats Christmas Special!" Jack suggested eagerly.

"Didn't you just watch that last night?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah, but we can watch it again!"

Giving a mock groan, Jessica turned on the TV. Spencer sat down in the living room, but ignored the Cat celebration and pulled his phone out instead. The pictures that Hotch had sent him showed sets of ten numbers each, put together like paragraphs on a page. He glanced through, looking for similarities and repetitions, and saw a set that he recognised instantly. The first ten digits of pi, without the three and the point in front of them. From there, it was simple to identify the remaining sets as other, various ten-number sequences in pi. Could it really be such a simple substitution code? He went to the bedroom, got out some paper, and started to test his theory.

After a few minutes, he became vaguely aware of Jack saying something, and then Jessica speaking as well, but nothing registered until the paper and phone were suddenly whisked out of his sight. He looked up indignantly.

"Spencer, we are frosting cookies now, not playing games on our phones," she said.

"I never play games on my phone." Spencer made a grab to get it back, but Jessica lifted it out of reach. "Please! I'm cracking a code, and I almost have it!"

Jessica carried the paper and phone away, and Spencer followed her into the kitchen, where she put them on top of the fridge next to the gingerbread man cutter. "Jessica, please, just a few more minutes!"

"Nope," she said. "It's cookie time. Now look, I've got four different colours of frosting and all kinds of sprinkles and fun decorations. You can be as creative as you want with your cookies."

"Come on, Spencer, it's fun!" Jack called to him from the table, already spreading green frosting over a tree-shaped cookie. Next to him were other bowls of frosting, none of them red.

But Spencer couldn't worry about cookies when there were more important things to be done. He shot a desperate glance to the top of the fridge, only to have Jessica cajole, "Do I have to get a candy cane from the Christmas tree and beat some Christmas spirit into you?"

Jack laughed at the idea. "I can help! Let's get two candy canes!"

Spencer didn't even smile; the idea was too close to what Wagoner had done. Realizing that the faster he got his cookies finished, the faster he could get back to the code, he sat down and picked up a star. He even managed a few genuine smiles when Jessica started taking pictures. Finally, all the cookies were frosted and decorated.

"May I please have my phone and my paper back now?" Spencer asked.

Jessica sighed. "Oh, all right, if it's so important to you. But we'll be having lunch soon."

She returned the confiscated items, and Spencer ran eagerly back into the bedroom to work some more. He almost had it – and yes! He wrote down the solution, sent a picture of it to Hotch, then called up.

"Hotch, sorry it took so long, Jessica took my phone away. Anyway, it was a subsitution code based on the digits of pi, but starting after the decimal point," he explained. "Each ten digit sequence represented a letter of the alphabet, but they started with Z and went backwards –"

"I got it, thank you, Spencer. This helps us a lot. I have to go now." Hotch hung up abruptly, and Spencer just hoped he'd been fast enough to crack it before anyone got killed. It was annoying to have been granted one tiny glimpse of the case, but to be kept out of the loop concerning everything else. Sighing, he stuffed his phone into his pocket and went back into the kitchen.

"All finished with your game?" Jessica asked, washing up at the sink.

"It was a code, not a game, and, yes, I'm finished. Would you like some help?"

Jessica let him dry a few non-breakable things, then shooed him out of the kitchen. "I'm going to start lunch now, you go play with Jack."

Spencer found Jack standing at the living room window, looking hopefully outside. "Do you think Santa's on his way already?"

"No," Spencer said honestly

"I wish Dad were here. Maybe he's on his way already. Maybe he'll get home before Santa comes."

For one quick moment, Spencer thought of Gabriel's children, standing at a window, watching and waiting for their father who would never come home, but he couldn't do anything about it, nor could he influence when Hotch would return, either. Instead, he forced himself to think about what they could do to pass the time. "Want to play a game I know?"

"What kind of game?"

"It's called Run Past Ally Alligator."

"I've never heard of that."

"I'll show you." Spencer got two dishtowels from the kitchen and explained how it went. Jack soon brought in his own ideas, and set out a course from the front door, past Spencer Alligator on the floor between the living area and the dining area, around the table, over two chairs pushed together to form a bridge, back past Spencer on the other side, and to the door again. He also held the towels high above his head so that Spencer would have had to stand up to get them. Then, when it was Spencer's turn to run past Jack Alligator, Jack pretended to "bite" his leg with his outstretched hands.

The game ended when Jack, trying to avoid Spencer's clapping arms, ran straight into Jessica as she was carrying a pot from the stove to the table.

"Whoa, whoa, let's calm down now, or we'll be cleaning macaroni and cheese off the carpet," she said, settling the pot safely down. "What are you playing?"

"Run Past Ally Alligator," Jack explained. "It was Spencer's idea! It's really fun!"

Jessica gave Spencer the same look she'd given him after the Unsub cookie incident, the one that indicated she was starting to consider him a bad influence on Jack. Then she looked fondly back at her nephew and said, "Okay, put the chairs back where they belong, then go wash your hands so we can eat. And maybe we can play something quieter after lunch."

That night, Spencer dreamed he was standing in front of two gravestones, one for his mother and one for Hotch. In the dream, Hotch had married his mother, who had been miraculously cured of her schizophrenia by Dr Sakenfeld, who'd invented a brain-restoral machine just for her, and they'd all been one happy family, but then Foyet had come along and stabbed both Hotch and his mother. Spencer awoke sobbing unhappily, and it was quite some time before he remembered that Hotch was alive and well and on a case, and his mother was alive, if not quite so well, but at least safe in Las Vegas.

The house was so silent that Spencer could hear Jack breathing in the upper bunk, and he presumed that Jessica was also asleep, across the hall in Hotch's bed. At least he hadn't woken her up. She might have tried to hug him, but he didn't want her hugs, he wanted Hotch's. And his mom's. In their absence, however, all Spencer had left was Boney, so he smoothed the pullover out and traced the glowing bones before clutching the whole thing to his chest.

* * *

_With thanks and apologies to "The Water Buffalo Song" in Veggie Tales._


	24. Chapter 24

In the morning, Spencer was awakened by a thump as Jack leaped out of the top bunk and hollered excitedly, "It's Christmas! Wake up, everybody, it's Christmas!"

Spencer sat up without enthusiasm and followed Jack more slowly to the living room where Jack suddenly caught sight of who was sitting on the couch, and squealed, "Dad!"

Following his gaze, Spencer also exclaimed, "Hotch!"

Hotch must have come in sometime in the early hours; he was still dressed in his suit and tie, and his coat was draped over his go-bag on the floor nearby. Now he stood up and caught Jack up into a hug. "Jack! Merry Christmas!"

"I didn't think you'd be here, Dad!" Jack exclaimed.

"I didn't think so, either, but sometimes miracles happen," Hotch replied, then put Jack down and extended his arms. "Spencer's turn."

Spencer went over for a hug, too. "Merry Christmas, Hotch. Did you get everybody back alive?"

"Yes, we did—" Hotch started, but Jack had already grabbed the first present. "Here, Spencer, this one's for you!"

Curious as to what book Hotch had picked out for him, Spencer undid the wrapping and read the title. "The Kids' Guide to Jumping Rope."

"Cool!" Jack exclaimed.

"Thank you, Hotch," Spencer said, thumbing through to look at some of the pictures and suggestions of fun things kids could do with a jump rope. He thought he might even be able to manage a few of them.

"Now it's my turn," Jack said, grabbing his own box and ripping the paper off. They went back and forth until everything had been opened, admired, and displayed. Along with the jump rope book, Spencer had also got his own jump rope with blue handles, a kit to make his own sour candy, a box of Legos, a 3-D puzzle with LED lights, and a few children's books. Spencer could see at once that everything had been selected to either include Jack immediately, or for Jack to inherit once Spencer had been re-aged.

Spencer handed around the presents he had bought for the family. Jack was excited about the Sword-Swinging Cat book that Spencer had picked out, and Jessica seemed pleased enough with her gift certificate for a book store, but Hotch looked at the package of different coloured plastic balls in faint confusion. Spencer said, "It's a game you can play with Jack when you go swimming. It's called Ping Pong Pals in the Pool. You scatter the pals around in the water, and then Jack swims around and gathers them all up. I drew faces on them if you want to play the simple version, but there are also numbers on each ball if you want the more advanced version where he has to bring them back in order. Or Jack can throw the balls so you can swim around and catch them."

"Oh!" Hotch looked more appreciative. "Thank you, Spencer, that's a great idea."

"Can we go try them out now, Dad?" Jack reached over and grabbed the package for a closer look. "These are funny faces!"

"I don't think any swimming pools are open to-day because it's Christmas," Hotch said, and Jack drooped slightly. "But I can check what's open to-morrow, and we'll try to get in then, okay, buddy?"

"Yay! Spencer and I can see who can get the most balls the fastest! And then we can throw the balls for Dad to get!" Jack declared, and Spencer felt pleasantly surprised about being included.

Jessica left after that, saying she had to visit her father. In the afternoon, while Jack was playing and Hotch was sitting on the couch watching him and trying hard not to fall asleep, Spencer said, "Hotch, can you help me call my mom?"

"Sure, buddy," Hotch said. "What do you need help with?"

"Can we go into the bedroom?" Spencer asked. He didn't want Jack to overhear.

Hotch got up and followed him through the apartment. Once they were behind the closed door, Spencer said, "Can you call her up and tell her I've been injured and I can't talk, but I want to wish her a merry Christmas anyway?"

"You don't want to try speaking to her at all?" Hotch asked

Remembering the Thanksgiving fiasco, Spencer shook his head. "You can tell her I got hit in the throat by an Unsub and I'm here next to you, writing stuff down for you to read to her, but I have to protect my vocal cords or there could be permanent damage."

"Okay."

"I hate lying to her like this, but I don't know what else to do." Spencer sighed.

"You just do the best you can, Spencer," Hotch said, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Spencer laid out his paper and pen, ready to go, then got his phone, put it on speaker, and dialled. Finally, his mother answered with an annoyed-sounding, "Hello!"

"Mrs Reid? My name is Aaron Hotchner, I work with your son, Spencer," Hotch said.

"Spencer? Is he all right?" his mother asked.

"He got hit in the throat and can't speak –" Hotch began.

"Well, send him home, then. He doesn't need to be in school anyway. Such a smart kid – he probably knows more than you do," his mother said.

Hotch looked over to Spencer for a hint as to how to procede, and Spencer quickly wrote down _not school, FBI!_

"Spencer works for the FBI now, Mrs Reid. Remember? He's not at school anymore," Hotch tried to explain.

"My son works for the government? Why? Did you take him prisoner, force him into employment because of his brain?"

Spencer sighed, and shook his head vigorously at Hotch. Mom was obviously having one of her bad days.

"No, we did not force him into anything, Mrs Reid. He chose to work with us."

Spencer wrote down two questions, and Hotch passed them on. "How are you doing, Mrs Reid? Are you getting Spencer's letters?"

"Oh, yes, Spencer writes all the time. He even sent me a Christmas card that he made himself. I need to write back or he'll think the government finally got me."

"And how are you doing?" Hotch pressed. Spencer wrote _medications and side effects _on his paper and Hotch asked, "How are you doing with your medications? Any side effects?"

"Same old meds, same old side effects," his mother replied. "Not that I would tell you if anything were different. You never know who's listening."

Spencer decided it was time to end the conversation. He wrote a few last words, and Hotch relayed them. "Spencer wants to wish you a merry Christmas, Mrs Reid."

"Well, tell him merry Christmas from me," his mother said.

"He's right here, he can hear you, he just can't talk," Hotch explained.

"Merry Christmas!" his mother shouted. "And to all you government spies who are listening, I hope you choke on your eggnog and get run over by reindeer! At the same time!"

After Hotch had hung up, he looked quizzically over to Spencer, who was too embarrassed to meet his eyes but mumbled, "That's usually how it goes. I just wanted to hear her voice."

"It's okay, Spencer," Hotch said.

They were interrupted in the next moment by Jack throwing open the door and saying, "Dad, look!"

He'd pulled on a sweatshirt from his Christmas stash and stuck out his arms to show how the sleeves didn't even cover his wrists. "This is too small!"

"Looks like it's time to see how much you've grown," Hotch said. "I'll get the tape measure."

He went to look in the drawers of his desk, and when he came back with the necessary equipment, he steered Jack to a bare section of wall.

"You're not standing on tiptoes, are you?" he teased. "Don't stretch your neck like that, either, you're not a Christmas turkey."

When Jack was just right, Hotch balanced a ruler on top of his head and used a pencil to mark where it hit the wall. After measuring it from the floor, he announced, "Wow, you've really shot up, buddy! Looks like Santa will need to get you a new sweatshirt in a bigger size."

"But Santa won't come again for a whole year!" Jack exclaimed.

"Well, maybe I can get you one instead," Hotch said. "I'm sure Santa wouldn't mind if I helped him out."

"We can give this one to Spencer," Jack suggested, already pulling it off. "He didn't get any clothes for Christmas, or anything with Cats, either!"

Would they really expect him to wear that? Spencer glanced at Hotch in horror, but Jack was already eagerly thrusting it at him. "Try it on!"

He gritted his teeth mentally and tried it on.

"Well, Spencer, there's plenty of room for you to grow into it, but you don't have to keep it if you don't like it," Hotch said.

Spencer shook his head a little, hoping Jack wouldn't notice. Jack, however, had focused on the word 'grow,' and now he told Hotch, "You should measure Spencer, too."

Spencer backed up against the wall and held his head level for the ruler. When Hotch announced his height, however, he felt his shoulders slump. "What? But that's the same as when I was measured at SH – at – in September."

"That's only been about three months." Hotch tried to console him. "You might have a growth spurt soon."

Or he might not have a growth spurt at all. What if he stayed exactly the same forever – or at least until the re-aging machine was finished? Or what if SHIELD had been right, the project really was cancelled, and the re-aging machine never got built? What if he never grew up and stayed looking like a child? What if he was never able to contact his mother directly again? Worst of all, what if he ended up needing a supervisor for the rest of his life?

"Don't worry, Spencer," Jack said, attempting to console him. "I'm supposed to be bigger than you, because I'm older. And I'm like your big brother now."

"You won't stay small forever," Hotch added.

"You don't know that," Spencer stated. His voice wobbled a little because he was close to tears – again! "You don't know – what if I stay this way forever? What if I die of old age but I still look like this?"

"Can you die of old age when you're five?" Jack asked.

Sniffing, Spencer started to answer the question automatically, even though it had nothing to do with why he was so afraid. "Actually, there's this rare genetic condition called progeria, where children's bodies age so rapidly that –"

"Spencer!" Hotch cut in firmly. "The answer is no, Jack, you cannot die of old age when you're five. You have to be at least eighty to die of old age. And, Spencer, you will not stay this way forever. You'll be growing out of your clothes soon enough. You just have to be patient and wait."

"But I want to grow up right now! And I don't want to be patient! I'm tired of waiting! I want to be able to visit my mom again, and talk to her and – and do other stuff –" His voice failed him and he bit his lip to keep from crying.

"I know you do," Hotch said. He reached out and pulled Spencer into a hug. "I know it's hard."

Spencer hugged back, and the tears came. He jerked in surprise when he felt Jack hug him from behind.

"I'm sorry you're sad," Jack said. "I miss my mom sometimes, too."

"Thanks," Spencer sobbed.

After a few moments, Hotch said, "Jack, why don't you go read that new book that Spencer got you?"

"Okay," Jack said, and went off. Hotch led Spencer to the bottom bunk and they sat down together.

"Hotch?" Spencer asked when he'd stopped crying enough to talk. "Do you think I'm turning into a child?"

"What?" Hotch asked. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

"Not just because I cry all the time and have lots of nightmares, but … I feel like I've been acting like a child lately."

"I haven't noticed anything radically different," Hotch said.

"Well, when Jessica shouted at me the other day, I was really scared," Spencer admitted.

"Jessica shouted at you? When?"

"Friday." Spencer reported what had happened. "I usually wouldn't forget when someone tells me something like that, but it just went completely out of my mind. Just like a child! And I was scared she was going to hit me, because she sounded so angry."

"You don't have to be a child to be frightened of someone," Hotch said. "That's a perfectly normal reaction to a situation like that, and maybe you still have a little PTSD because of what happened in Oklahoma."

"Yeah," Spencer agreed. "Maybe. But the forgetting, Hotch! Children focus on their own needs, whether real or perceived, and in a situation where they have to decide whether to satisfy those needs, or remember what their parents told them not to do, they go with their needs. And that's exactly what I did. I wanted to be active and have fun, so I did, and I completely forgot to be quiet, like Jessica told me. I'm turning into a child!"

"I don't think you are," Hotch said. "I think you're in a child's body that you can't control with your intellect alone. I've said it before, and I still think that you're doing your best in a very difficult situation that none of us completely understand. It's okay if you make mistakes – no, that's the wrong word. They aren't mistakes. It's okay if you react differently now because you have a different body with different needs. It's okay if you need to move around more, or you need more sleep, or whatever."

"You know, technically I've spent more of my life as a child and a teenager than as an adult, so I should know more about being a child than being an adult," Spencer said. "But I don't. I still feel like an adult up here, in my mind. But then I cry all the time –"

"Not all the time, Spencer," Hotch assured him. "And when you do, you have a good reason."

"—and I have nightmares all the time, and –" he screwed up his courage and admitted it in a rapid gush of words – "and I want hugs all the time."

"Why do you think that's a bad thing?" Hotch asked. "Adults hug, too."

Spencer looked away and fidgeted. "Yeah. I'm an adult, I should be wanting the kind of hugs that adults – especially husbands and wives – give each other. But, um, I want the reassurance and the comfort and – and the love that comes when a parent hugs a child. After a nightmare, or when I've been crying, it's all I can think about …"

"I think most people want that kind of comfort, too, no matter how old they are," Hotch said. "I don't think it means you're turning into a child."

"It's not just hugs, Hotch. Sometimes I like playing, too. Jumping on the bed, running around, swinging on the swings. And when I made that Christmas card for my mom while I was in childcare, it was actually kind of fun!"

"You only like it sometimes?" Hotch queried. "Or do you only let yourself like it sometimes?"

Spencer looked away again. "I've been letting myself like it more and more lately, and that's the problem! I got so into it when I was jumping off the bed that I completely forgot about being well-behaved for Jessica."

"I'm not a psychologist, but I get the feeling you're afraid simply because you actually like being a child sometimes," Hotch mused.

"Whenever I act like a child, it means I'm not acting like an adult," Spencer explained. "And if I like being a child, I might act like a child more and more often, and what if I stay that way when I get turned back into an adult?"

"Spencer," Hotch said, "after three months of observing you after your de-aging, it's my professional opinion as a profiler that you'll act like an adult again. But I can continue to observe you, and if I see that something in your behaviour changes for the worse, I promise I will tell you. In the meantime, however, I also think you have the best of both worlds; times when you can be a child, and times when you can be an adult. Okay?"

"Okay," Spencer said. He felt better knowing that Hotch would keep an eye on him. It was better to have an objective observer, not just his own subjective feelings. "Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it."

"All right, then, let me give you a hug, and then we'll go back out and make sure Jack hasn't gotten up to any mischief while he's been alone." Hotch stood up and extended his arms, and Spencer hugged back with a relieved smile.

* * *

2 January 2012

Hotch had taken the week off between Christmas and New Year's Day. On Monday, the day after Christmas, he took Jack and Spencer to the swimming pool, as promised. On Wednesday, they went to the National Zoo, and on Friday, they participated in a holiday plant hunt at the U.S. Botanic Garden and viewed the spectacular exhibition of Season's Greenings. In between, they had fun at home. They made sour candy from the kit Spencer had got, which led to them also learning to boil eggs, make Jello, and helping to make pancakes as well. After Hotch accidentally vacuumed up the most important Lego piece from Jack's building, they carefully dissected the vacuum bag to find it again. Spencer showed them how to make a Y-shaped cut like a real dissection. Along with playing games and completing puzzles, Spencer and Jack both practised with Spencer's new jump rope, and every day they had half an hour where they just sat around and read. Spencer let himself enjoy it all, especially the part where Jack went off to Paul's birthday party and left him alone with Hotch, but he was also relieved when it was finally January and he could go back to work and be around adults again.

"Good morning, Dr Reid, join us in the conference room, please."

Spencer glanced up from the file he had just started to review and saw Garibaldi and a woman with a visitor's pass strolling past his desk. He got down from his chair and followed them up the steps. Once they were in the conference room sitting around the table, Garibaldi said, "This is my wife, Karen. I know it's a bit unorthodox, but you need a supervisor and she's out of a job at the moment, so if you don't have any objections, she's ready to help out."

"Hello, Dr Reid," Mrs Garibaldi said. She was just barely grandmother age, slightly plump and with a quirk to her lips that made it seem as though she would start to smile at any moment. "You can call me Karen if you like."

"Hello," he said back. "You can call me Spencer."

"Well, tell me all about the job, Spencer," she said.

"For you, it would be mostly just sitting around and waiting." Spencer described his daily routines for the office and the field, and added, "My old supervisor, Ally, had lots of ideas for games and physical activities for me, including swimming if there's a pool in the hotel."

"I think I can handle that," Karen said. "In between all the fun stuff, do I have to keep an eye on you every minute, or do I just have to be nearby?"

"It would be both weird and unnecessary if you stared at me the whole time," Spencer said. "Ally was teaching herself Arabic in between my breaks."

"Oh, good, so I can get out my laptop and read or write, or whatever?" She lifted up the case she was carrying.

"Yes." In the hopes that he would find it interesting, he asked, "What are you writing?"

"A romance novel," she said, and when Spencer grimaced, she laughed. "You don't have to read it. My husband doesn't like romances, either. Do you think you can work with me, anyway? Despite the romance?"

"Yeah, I think I can," said Spencer.

"Then you start now, Karen," Garibaldi said. "Don't let him go anywhere alone. Take him to the women's bathroom if he has to go."

"What?" Spencer exclaimed. "Hotch or Morgan or Rossi can take me if I'm really not allowed to go to the bathroom by myself."

"You're not," Garibaldi snapped. "And I don't care if you go to the men's room, the women's room, the handicapped toilet, or the cat litter box, just make sure you have someone inside with you."

"Well, that cuts out the cat litter box, then, I'm not sure we'd both fit," Karen replied, and when her husband glared, she added, "A touch of humour doesn't mean I'm not taking this seriously, Rob. Now, Spencer, do I get a desk, or should I just stay here and keep an eye on you through the window?"

"Ally's desk is still there," Spencer said. "I can show you."

"Thank you. Have a nice day, Rob. I guess I'll see you if I need to get my go-bag out of your office, or when we get home. Spencer, I'll just tell Aaron that I'm here, and then you can point me to my desk."

Spencer looked politely away while Karen and Rob kissed, then led Karen along the mezzanine to Hotch's office.

"Agent Hotchner!" Karen exclaimed, strolling in. "I want to report a blatant case of nepotism here in the FBI!"

Hotch started in surprise. "Karen?"

"Agent Garibaldi has just appointed his wife – his _wife_, who isn't even an agent - to a supervisory position inside the Bureau," she went on.

Spencer saw Hotch's alarm fade instantly to a pleased smile. "A supervisory position? The position that involves Dr Reid?"

"That's the one." She grinned. "If I can't be a children's librarian – because of those thrice-cursed budget cuts – I might as well be a librarian of children, so to speak. Starting with this one."

"That's wonderful, I'm so glad to hear it," Hotch said, including Spencer in his gaze of approval.

"It's good to see you again, Aaron," Karen said. "I was sorry to hear about Haley, how are you and Jack holding up?"

"We're doing well," Hotch replied easily. "Jack just started school this year, and Haley's sister Jessica helps take care of him when I'm not there."

"Watch out, he'll be grown up before you know it, and working halfway across the country," Karen teased.

Hotch started to say something, but Spencer's phone alarm went off just then, and he pulled it out. "Break time. Now we have to go outside and play."

"Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to work I go," Karen said. "I'll catch you later, Aaron. Lead the way, Spencer."


	25. Chapter 25

I know the medical procedures depicted here are probably inaccurate, so please only complain about them if you're able and willing to help me write it better.

There will be two more chapters after this, and then the fic will be finished. I'd love to read your thoughts, especially what you liked and disliked.

* * *

22 July 2012

With his new supervisor always available, Spencer was able to work without further worries or interruptions. January moved smoothly into February, winter gave way to spring, summer came, and suddenly, it was July. JJ had announced that she would celebrate her birthday in the park if they didn't have a case on that day, and by a miracle, they didn't. Hotch packed up everything he thought they would need and drove Spencer and Jack over to the meeting point. Rossi was already there, and to Spencer's chagrin, he had brought his dog as well.

"Oh, no, not Mudgie," Spencer groaned, but Jack ran over to say hello.

"Hi, Uncle Dave, can I pat Mudgie?"

"Sure, Jack." Rossi made Mudgie sit, and Jack stroked him. Spencer lingered by the parked car, twitching whenever the dog turned his head to look at him.

"Can I take him for a walk, Uncle Dave?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, but stay where we can see you." Rossi handed over the leash, and Jack said, "Come on, Mudgie."

Then he was almost pulled off his feet when Mudgie lunged towards Spencer, sniffing and barking. With a shout of fear, Spencer fled in the only direction that would take him out of Mudgie's reach by clambering up onto the hood of the car and racing up the windscreen onto the roof. "Help! Rossi, get him away!"

"He just wants to sniff you, Spencer," Jack tried to explain as Mudgie stood up on his hind legs, thrusting his nose towards the roof and barking.

"Come here, Mudgie," Rossi said, strolling over to take the leash. "Mudgie, heel! Sorry, Spencer, I thought he might be over it by now."

Mudgie put his forelegs on the ground again, and Rossi helped Jack walk him over to a nearby tree. Directing Mudgie to the shady spot, Rossi wrapped the extendable leash around the trunk and secured it.

"All right, Spencer, you can come down now," Hotch said, putting out his arms.

The next car pulled up just as Spencer carefully climbed into Hotch's embrace, and when Spencer saw that it was Morgan, and he was opening the back to get his own dog out, he tried to get back on the roof. "No! Not Clooney, too!"

"Oww, try not to kick me in the face again, Spencer," Hotch said.

"Kid, what're you doing?" Morgan asked, attaching the leash to Clooney's collar. "Clooney doesn't bite."

"No, but he'll sniff and bark, just like Mudgie does," Spencer said, having escaped Hotch's grip and cowering in the middle of the car roof.

And indeed, when Morgan and Clooney came over, Clooney lunged forward, barking, and Morgan had to pull him back. "Down, Clooney, easy, boy. Sorry, Spencer, I've never seen him do that before."

Spencer hoped Clooney wasn't staring at him so intently because he was waiting for a chance to get a taste and not just a sniff.

"I'm gonna take Clooney for a quick run, be right back," Morgan said, and they gallopped off. Spencer finally allowed Hotch to lift him to the ground, then saw a member of their team who did not have a dog. "JJ!"

JJ and Will were arriving on foot, Will pulling a wagon behind him in which Henry was balanced on top of their supplies. Jogging over, Spencer gave JJ a hug. "Happy birthday!"

"Thank you, Spencer," she replied.

"Did you get your birthday pancakes?"

"I sure did." She and Will shared one of those secret smiles that couples often share. Spencer looked away. "Hi, Henry."

"Hi," said Henry.

"Hey, Spencer," Will said. "You look taller, you growing?"

"Yes," Spencer announced proudly. After the Christmas disappointment, he'd made Hotch measure him once a month, and was relieved to see that he'd shot up between January and February, and again in late June.

"Henry's growing, too," JJ said. "He's sure able to get into more mischief now."

Now that they were in the park, Henry hopped out of the wagon and raced towards the nearby playground. JJ chased after him, and Will continued to pull the wagon until he reached the picnic table closest to the climbing structure.

Emily and Garcia arrived together, with Garcia getting a huge box out of the back of her car. "The cake's here, the party can start!"

JJ came back from the playground and met her at the picnic table. "Whoa, Penelope, that looks delicious!"

"Thank you, and happy birthday, girl!"

"Thank you." JJ beamed proudly.

Soon everybody was setting out containers of food, plates and silverware, and everything else needed for the celebration. Spencer was also glad to see that Penelope had put candles on JJ's cake, too.

"All right, kids, let's eat," Will called out to where Jack and Henry were both on the climbing net. "You, too, Morgan!"

Spencer looked around and saw Morgan and Clooney loping towards them. He tensed, but they were too far away from the car for him to reach it before Clooney would get him. Nor were there any trees with low branches that he could climb. The best he could hope for would be to get on Hotch's shoulders then persuade the man to get up on the picnic bench. Fortunately, however, Morgan tied Clooney to a tree before coming to the table, and Spencer relaxed again.

After they'd eaten, Will and Penelope lit the candles on the cake while Jack counted them and announced loudly, "Are you thirty four, Aunt JJ?"

"I sure am," she replied.

"Wow," he said. "Do you need help blowing out the candles? Because I'm really good at it!"

"Aww, thanks, Jack, you're sweet, but I'm not so old that I can't do it myself."

They sang the happy birthday song, and then JJ puffed all her candles out with just a little help from Henry, who had snuck up between her and Will and started blowing even before the song was over. Everybody laughed, and Garcia cut the cake, handing the first piece to the birthday girl. Spencer was pleased to notice that Henry had grown out of his possessive stage and did not make a grab for it. Garcia also helped stave off disaster by giving Henry the next piece, and the next one after that to Will. When Spencer finally got his piece, he had to agree with everybody else; it was delicious.

Once they were finished eating, Jack said, "Come on, Spencer, let's play!"

Spencer really wanted to sit and talk with the other adults, but Jack had devised a game that involved him and Spencer swinging plastic swords at each other while swarming over the various parts of the climbing tower. Resigned, Spencer took his sword and did his best to parry Jack's random attacks. Henry had put his Cat plushie in the wagon and was pulling it around the climbing structure, narrating a kind of adventure to himself that involved him stopping every so often and taking the Cat down the slide or doing something else, then going back for another round.

A boy and a girl came towards the playground, brandishing sticks and inserting themselves into Jack's game by shouting, "Salute, Sword-Swingers!"

With other Cat-fans there for Jack to interact with, Spencer thought it might be a good chance for him to get back to the picnic table, and lowered his plastic sword. The girl whacked it out of his hand with her branch and it sailed over the guard rail of the hanging bridge to land on the grass nearby.

"Hey!" Spencer exclaimed, and they both ran to it, but the girl was closer, and snatched it up.

"May I have it back, please?" Spencer asked.

"I want to play with it now," she insisted, and proceded to whack Spencer on the shoulder with it. "Evil will not triumph to-day, you mangy ferret!"

Spencer made a grab for the sword, but missed, and the girl swung it at his head, knocking his glasses askew. As he pushed them back to rights, he said, "Come on, give it back, it belongs to Jack over there, and if you want to play with it, you have to ask him first. But actually, I'm sure you've got enough imagination to pretend that your stick is a sword."

"But I want a real sword!"

"Oh, give it back to the poor kid," her brother shouted. The girl made a face, then threw the sword as high into the air as she could. It landed on the peaked roof of the octagonal tower between the hanging bridge and the huge net, slid down a bit, and stopped just short of falling off again.

"Go and get it, if you want it so bad," the girl said, and marched off. Spencer sighed and went back up the climbing structure, got up on the guard rail of the bridge, and transferred himself carefully to the roof. It wasn't that high, or that steep, and he was able to work his way around to where the sword was laying, only to have it snatched away just as he extended his fingers. Shocked, he looked up to see Jack coming from the other direction, and lost his balance.

Spencer flailed for one terrifying moment, and then next thing he knew, he had slammed into the side wall of Henry's wagon and he was screaming because his right arm hurt, hurt, HURT.

JJ was there first, and then Hotch, both of them hovering, lifting him up, touching him, and he screamed some more. "My arm, I think I broke my arm!"

"That doesn't look good," Hotch said, and then Will was there, too. "Here's an ice pack. Spencer, can you lay your arm carefully on top of this? It'll feel better."

Spencer screamed again as Will brought the ice pack up to the broken spot. Turning his head, Hotch said, "Jack, get the swords, we have to take Spencer to the ER."

"Jack, do you want to stay with us?" JJ offered. "You can play with Henry instead of sitting around in the boring waiting room."

"I wanna stay with Spencer," Jack said. "And Dad!"

"Of course you want to be with your family, little man," Will said and JJ confirmed it. "That's fine, Jack, I just thought I'd offer."

"I'm sorry for – for ruining your – your birthday, JJ," Spencer wailed, and JJ stroked his head with one hand. "It's okay, Spencer, my birthday's not ruined. The picnic was pretty much over, anyway. You just get better, okay?"

With Hotch's help, Spencer managed to walk slowly to the car, whimpering as each step jarred his arm. He could only grunt a response to everybody in the team who wished him a speedy and painless recovery.

Their stay in the ER seemed all the more long and tedious because Spencer couldn't hold a magazine to read or even focus on much of anything while they waited to be seen. It was another busy day, and again, there weren't enough chairs to go around, so he sat miserably on Hotch's lap in the waiting room. After a while, it occurred to him that his one-year anniversary of being de-aged was coming up in only two months, and he wondered if Hotch was going to bring up the subject of adoption if there hadn't been any word from SHIELD by then. As much as he liked being with Hotch and Jack, consenting to be adopted into their family would be tantamount to admitting he'd never be re-aged and would have to let his body grow up again. It was a depressing thought, but then the vibrations of his phone brought him back to the present.

"Hotch, my phone is ringing, can you get it out for me?" he asked, standing up.

"Sure, buddy." Hotch wriggled the phone out of Spencer's pocket, then put it into Spencer's left hand. They both ignored the disapproving gazes of the other people waiting nearby.

Without checking the caller, Spencer put the phone to his ear and said, "This is Spencer Reid."

"Hello, Dr Reid, it's Dr Kapoor here, do you remember me?" the man asked.

"Yes, I remember," Spencer said, straightening up in eager expectation.

"I wanted to talk to you about the effects of pointillism on Project Mustardseed," Dr Kapoor went on.

"Didn't that get cancelled?" Spencer asked.

"Officially, yes. Unofficially – can you come to the SHIELD base?"

"Right now?" The pain of his arm faded instantly away as hope shot through him. "Is it finished? Does it work?"

"Yes to both questions. Well, on pigs, anyway."

"Hotch, we have to go to SHIELD right away," Spencer said, and Jack perked up, too. "SHIELD? Where Captain America lives?"

"SHIELD?" Hotch asked, too.

"The machine," Spencer said, almost too excited to explain. "They've finished it! It works! We have to go right now!"

"What machine?" Jack asked.

"Tell them about your arm," Hotch said.

"Oh, yeah." Spencer turned back to his phone. "Dr Kapoor, I just broke my arm and we're in the waiting room at the ER. Should we wait for the X-rays, or come straight over and hope that the machine will do everything necessary?"

"You broke your arm?" Dr Kapoor asked, and Spencer could hear a distinct note of disappointment in his voice. "Oh. Well. I'm not sure …" Although he turned his head away from the phone, Spencer clearly heard him yelling, "We're gonna need another pig!"

Then he addressed Spencer again. "Don't come yet. Get your arm checked out, and I'll call you back to-morrow after we've done more tests."

"To-morrow?" Spencer slumped in renewed depression and the pain returned with more intensity. "Oh. Okay."

A nurse came through and announced his name, and Spencer hung up, then handed his phone to Hotch for him to hold. He was examined and sent for X-rays, then had to wait for the doctor to come back and interpret them. Finally, the older man came in, studied, the pictures, then indicated the ulna of his own arm and said, "Looks like you broke this bone pretty good, son, and the edges are just a little bit out of alignment. See here on the picture how this piece sticks out there, and that piece sticks out here?"

"Yes," said Spencer. With his left index finger, he pointed to the picture of his radius. "This looks cracked, too."

"Good eyes! Yes, but that hasn't gone all the way through and it's still as straight as it should be. But with the other bone here, I'll need to move the broken pieces so that they form a straight line again. I think I can do that without having to operate. I'll give you a shot first, and that will hurt a little, but it'll make it so it won't hurt when I'm moving the bones, okay?"

"Okay," Spencer said. When the nurse came in with the prepared syringe on a tray, Spencer reached out with his left hand for Hotch, and held on tightly. He also watched closely as the doctor sprayed the area with antiseptic, then positioned the needle and poked it gently into the middle of the hematoma that had formed directly over the break. As predicted, it hurt enough to make Spencer cry out, but eventually, the doctor removed the needle.

"You can open your eyes now, Jack, it's over," Hotch said, and Spencer saw that Jack had scrunched up his face and closed his eyes as though it were happening to him. When Jack opened his eyes again and saw that the doctor was putting the syringe away, he looked more relieved than Spencer felt.

"You've probably seen other kids wearing a cast on a broken arm or broken leg, and maybe you've written your name on some of them, but we're going to put a splint on you for now," the doctor said. Spencer didn't tell him that nobody had ever asked him to sign their cast.

"The splint won't be firm enough for anybody to sign, and it'll hurt if they try," the doctor went on. "So don't let them. The splint is because your arm will swell up a little and that needs some space. And because we'll want to check the bone again to make sure it's healing all right, and it's easier to take a splint off than to cut through a hard cast. So, you'll go see your regular doctor on Thursday and they can take another X-ray, and then they'll get you a cast that all your friends can sign. You can probably even pick out your favourite colour. Okay?"

"I don't think they'll have lavender," Spencer said.

"Well, they might have purple, is that close enough?"

Spencer shrugged with his left shoulder. "Yeah, I guess."

"So, tell me again how you broke it?" the doctor asked, and Spencer told him about falling off the climbing frame and landing on the wagon.

"Well, I've seen a lot people fall off the wagon, but very few fall onto one," the doctor said, and Spencer grinned at the joke. Hotch even smiled, too, but Jack just looked confused.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," the doctor said, and went out. But it was more than a few minutes before he came back to check that the anaesthetic was working and finally said, "Well, let's get this all straightened out, then."

He manipulated the bones, but although Spencer felt them moving, he didn't feel any pain.

"There, I think that's got it," the doctor said. He and the nurse fitted a splint onto Spencer's arm and gave him a sling as well. When they'd finished, the doctor wrote out a prescription for a painkiller.

"This is for acetaminophen with codeine," he told Hotch, and Spencer jerked at the reference to the opiate.

After they'd left the hospital but before they got in the car, Spencer said, "Hotch, I don't want that painkiller. Just plain ibuprofen would be better."

"Why?" Hotch asked, and then he remembered, "Oh, because of the codeine? Sure, buddy, if that's what you want."

"Dad, what's codeine?" Jack asked.

"It's a kind of painkiller, Jack."

"I had some problems with it before," Spencer explained. "So it's better if I don't take it now."

"Oh."

He didn't think he could get addicted again, not with his younger body, but even the merest thought of taking it worried him.

As they started to drive, Jack asked excitedly, "Are we going to SHIELD, Dad? Can we see Captain America while we're there?"

"We're not going to SHIELD, we're going to the pharmacy to get some medicine for Spencer," Hotch replied.

"I thought Spencer said we had to go to SHIELD right now. You said that, didn't you, Spencer?"

"I said that, but then I found out I was wrong."

"Why were you wrong?" Jack wasn't letting it drop.

Spencer scrambled mentally for an explanation that Jack would believe. "Well, I thought they wanted me to help them test something, but then I told them about my broken arm, and they didn't want me to come in after all."

"What did they want you to test?"

"A special kind of machine." At least that was the truth, if not all of it.

"Can I help test it, too?"

"No, I don't think either of us can now."

"But I don't have a broken arm! I could do it!"

"Sorry, buddy, but they haven't asked you," Hotch said, pulling into a parking lot and finding a space.

"That's not fair," Jack said.

"Life isn't always fair," Hotch responded. "How about we get that medicine for Spencer and then some ice cream that we can eat at home, hmm?"

"Strawberry!" Jack exclaimed.

"Chocolate!" Spencer called.

"Maybe we should get Neapolitan, then," Hotch suggested, and opened the car door.


	26. Chapter 26

This is the second to last chapter. I'd love to hear what you liked and didn't like.

* * *

The next day, Karen came to Quantico to pick Spencer up from Hotch's car and take him home with her. Spencer was officially on medical leave, and wasn't even able to work, even though he desperately wanted to, but holding a pen and putting pressure on his arm while trying to write was just too painful. Karen had slipped an ice pack into his sling for his arm to rest on, and they were working on a puzzle when Spencer's phone rang.

He'd pushed it into the left-hand pocket of his jeans, and now he pulled it awkwardly out with his non-dominant hand. "Hi, Hotch."

"Hi, Spencer. We've got a case in Mississippi, so Karen will probably have to take you to the doctor on Thursday to see about your arm. Okay?"

"Okay," Spencer said. He wasn't surprised, he knew how often the team went out on cases, and he'd even taken his go-bag with him just in case, but he was still a little disappointed. Still, staying with Karen day and night could only be better than his experience in childcare. "Good luck."

It was close to lunch when his phone rang again, and seeing the name on the display gave him a burst of hope. "This is Spencer Reid."

"Hiya, Dr Reid, this is Dr Kapoor. We tried the machine out on a de-aged pig where we broke its leg – humanely, I might add – and it healed up nicely during the process. When you come to the base, just give the project name and password at the gate, and they'll let you through. Come any time, I'm looking forward to the test already … and I'm sure you are, too."

"Yes!" Spencer exclaimed, letting some excitement show through before toning it down again. "I don't know when exactly I can come, though. Agent Hotchner's just been called to a case in Mississippi and I need to talk to him about a few things first. Can I call you back later?"

"Oh," Dr Kapoor said, audibly losing some of his enthusiasm. "Well. No, unfortunately for security reasons, you can't call me back, but I can call you. Shall we say in three hours, or would you prefer to-morrow morning?"

"Call me back in three hours," Spencer said. When he'd hung up, he grinned at Karen. "The re-aging machine is ready! I can be an adult again!"

"That's wonderful!" she said. "You've certainly waited long enough."

"Well, it seems I'll have to wait just a little longer, but at least you won't have to take me to the doctor for this," Spencer explained, lifting his arm in the sling a little. "It will heal in the machine."

"Really?" Karen asked. "Can they make it so they can age you like six weeks at a time, just flash-forward you through broken bones?"

Spencer's mood darkened and he frowned at the memories that the idea brought. Sensing the change, Karen asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"Yes, but – can I tell you later? I really need to talk to Hotch now," Spencer said, glad to change the subject, then dialled the number. Hotch answered after three rings. "Spencer?"

"Hi, Hotch, are you in Mississippi yet?"

"We've just landed, we're on our way to local law enforcement. Why?"

"Dr Kapoor just called back. My broken arm shouldn't be a problem, they did a test on a pig with a broken leg and it healed during the re-aging process."

"That's very good to hear," Hotch said. "I know you were disappointed about having to wait."

"Yeah, I'm happy, but I'm also a little bit disappointed that you're off on a case. But on the other hand, it will give us time before we go to decide what to tell Jack about why I have to leave and won't be staying with you two anymore."

"We? Spencer, I thought you were calling to tell me that you were going to get Karen to drive you to the SHIELD base," Hotch said.

"What? No!" Spencer exclaimed. "No, I want you to be there, Hotch. And anybody else from the team who wants to be there, too."

"I'd be more than happy to be there," Hotch said. "And I'll tell everybody else that they're invited, too."

"Thanks, Hotch. I'll try to be patient until the case is finished."

"Tell Karen to keep you busy, that's the best way. Oh, we're here, I've got to go," said Hotch. "I'll call you to-night."

Spencer passed the news on to Dr Kapoor when he called later in the afternoon, and distinctly felt the man's disappointment at having to wait more than a day to test the machine on the human it was meant for. Still, he thought he'd rather disappoint Dr Kapoor than not give Hotch or anybody else from his team a chance to be there and see him be transformed back into an adult.

Hotch didn't phone until Spencer had taken his pain medication for the night, brushed his teeth, and was just about to get his pyjamas on. "Hi, Spencer, how's it going?"

"Okay. I told Dr Kapoor we'd be coming when the case is finished."

"Everybody here wants to come, too."

"That's great," Spencer said happily. "They were all there when it happened, they should all be there when I get turned back."

"I've been too busy to think about what we can tell Jack," Hotch admitted. "I've actually got some more reviewing to do to-night, too."

"I've been thinking about it all day," Spencer said. "I hate lying to him, but in this case, I don't see any way around it. I think we should say that my mother is out of the special hospital now and can take care of me again, so I'll be going back to Las Vegas."

"Okay," said Hotch.

"I'm planning on going to see her again as soon as I can, so I can send Jack a postcard while I'm there. I want him to know I'm still alive and that I'm thinking of him, even if he can't see me."

"That's a good idea," Hotch said.

"The last thing I want is for Jack to get the idea that I am dead," Spencer went on to explain.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, then said, "I agree, that would be the worst way to handle it."

"Now we just have to come up with something to explain why he can't come with us to the airport," Spencer said.

"Well, we've still got a few days for that," Hotch said. "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"I can do that," Spencer said. "Good night, Hotch."

"Good night, Spencer."

Spencer let Karen help him with his pyjamas, then settled happily down into bed. Only a few more days and he'd be an adult again, and he could go see his mom and she would recognise him. He'd also be able to work without a supervisor, and go to the bathroom by himself, and live in his own apartment again, and then he woke up screaming in terror and shock.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Karen asked, coming in.

"The re-aging machine," Spencer wailed. "It's been destroyed! They dropped a bomb on it!"

"Oh, Spencer, sweetie, that was just a dream!" Karen said. "Come here, give me a hug."

Spencer put his arms around her and squeezed, but that set off a small burst of pain in his broken arm. "Owww."

"Oh, sorry, I guess we shouldn't have done that. Here, let me hug you, is that better?" Karen hugged him, then started rubbing his back. Over her shoulder, Spencer saw Garibaldi come to the bedroom door wearing nothing but boxer shorts and still managing to radiate disapproval and annoyance with his entire body. Fortunately, he only glared and went away again.

"Feeling better?" Karen asked.

"It was so realistic," Spencer panted. "I was right there. I saw it blow up. The whole machine. It was like something out of Star Wars."

"It was just a dream, sweetie. It was your brain sorting everything out and trying to deal with some bad anxiety, I think," Karen said.

"Yeah," Spencer said. "Yeah."

"Here's Boney if you need him." Karen pulled the folded pullover from the far corner of the bed, and Spencer reached out automatically with his right hand, then switched to his left to touch the glow-in-the-dark dinosaur.

"You think you can lay down again and go back to sleep?" she asked.

"Yeah. Thanks." Spencer snuggled down into bed again.

"Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite."

"Did you know that bedbugs are becoming more resistant to chemical pesticides –?" Spencer started to say, but Karen put a finger on his mouth. "It's just a saying, Spencer, and we definitely don't have bedbugs. Well, except for the big one …"

"What? Where?" Spencer squawked, sitting up in sudden alarm and glancing around.

"Except for this big one right here named Spencer," she teased, giving him a gentle poke in the chest. Spencer relaxed sheepishly and laid down again. "Good night, Karen."

The next night, Spencer dreamed of giant bedbugs destroying the re-aging machine. And the night after that, it was Tobias Hankel holding a gun to his head and telling him to choose a member of his team to blow up the re-aging machine. He chose Hotch, and awoke screaming the man's name. On Thursday night, it was Ally, flying an airplane that had belonged to her brother Rafael and telling Spencer, "If we can't use the machines, Sprout, you can't, either!" Then she pressed the button that would send a nuclear bomb down, except that the machine had somehow moved to Las Vegas and the bomb would not only destroy it, but kill Spencer's mother as well. Panicked and devastated, Spencer shrieked, "Mom, Mom, MOM!"

"For fuck's sake, would you just SHUT UP!" a male voice bellowed at him, and Spencer stopped in mid-scream, gaping in shock. It was Garibaldi, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. "You wake me up one more time, and I'll smack you into the middle of next week!"

Spencer stared at him, not sure if he were awake or still dreaming, but feeling terror building just the same. Would Garibaldi really hit him? He stayed very still and tried to control his breathing in case he gasped too loudly and caught the man's attention again. All the time, however, his mind was screaming just one word. _Hotch!_

"Robert Arthur Garibaldi, did I just hear you threaten to assault another FBI agent?" Karen demanded from behind her husband, then gave him a push that made him drop his arms and take a step forward to keep his balance. Slipping through, Karen turned to face him.

"He's woken me up every night this week, Karen, _every night_!" Rob grumbled, but he sounded suddenly much less terrifying. Spencer felt some of his fear ebb away now that Karen was there.

"Me, too, and do you hear me complaining and wanting to hit people? I'll tell you one thing, though, you lay one finger, _one eyelash_, on Spencer and I'll come after you with a wooden spoon. But worse, I'll wait until you're asleep!" Karen threatened. "You'll be snoring happily away and then suddenly, _whack_!"

She clapped her hands together for emphasis and Spencer couldn't help a quick giggle at the mental image.

"I don't snore," Garibaldi snarled, but Karen ignored his aggression and leaned up for a kiss instead.

"Now apologise to Dr Reid," she told him, "then go back to bed, you grumpy grizzly, and save your aggression for the Unsubs."

Garibaldi kissed her back, then sighed and said, "Sorry, Dr Reid, I shouldn't have shouted and threatened you like that. I guess I forgot you're really an adult."

Without waiting for an answer, he stalked unhappily away. Karen came over and sat down on the side of the bed. "Were you dreaming about something happening to your mother?"

"Yeah," Spencer admitted. "But I'm okay now. And I really am sorry about waking you both up every night."

"I know you can't help it, sweetie. And don't worry about Rob. It's been one of those months at the office for him, all condensed into this one week. Now. Can you settle down and go back to sleep? Have you got Boney?"

"I don't need Boney to settle down, I'm fine now." But Spencer shot a quick glance over to the side of the bed, just to make sure Boney was still there. As he lay down again, he wondered if he'd need Boney after he was an adult again, then rejected the thought as ridiculous. He hadn't needed Boney before, he wouldn't need him again. He wasn't going to be a crybaby anymore, and he wouldn't need anything to cuddle after a bad dream.

"Okay, then. Good night, sleep tight, don't let the Garibaldis bite."

Spencer giggled again, but clamped his mouth shut when he thought he heard a low rumble of protest from the other bedroom. Very quietly, he whispered, "Good night, Karen."

The next day, Spencer had never felt more impatient in his entire life. He knew from Hotch's nightly phone calls that the team knew the Unsub was a woman and that they were getting very close to her by now. Spencer hoped they'd finish the case in time for the weekend. Finally, after what had seemed like an interminably long day, his phone rang close to supper time.

"Hotch! Did you get the Unsub? Is it over?"

"Yes, we finally got her, the case is closed, and we'll be landing in just under three hours," Hotch said. "I have to pick up Jack from Jessica's. Can I call Karen when I'm home and have her bring you over?"

Spencer relayed the question and then the answer. "Yes, Karen says that'll be fine."

"And then we'll go to SHIELD to-morrow morning, after we've all had a chance to rest and recover a little," Hotch went on.

Spencer revealed his impatience by making an unhappy sound, and Hotch added, "It's just a few more hours, buddy, and I'm pretty sure you don't want me to drop you into the machine while you're asleep."

"No, I'd rather jump in myself. Thanks, Hotch. I'll see you to-night."

It seemed to take forever until Hotch finally called Karen's phone. Spencer had already been getting tired, but a sudden burst of adrenaline launched him into wakefulness. He jumped excitedly out to the car, Karen lumbering behind with his go-bag, and almost managed to buckle himself into the child seat with his left hand. To-morrow, he thought happily as Karen finished the job, to-morrow he wouldn't need a a child seat anymore. He'd even be able to drive himself anywhere he wanted to go! But when they pulled up at Hotch's apartment building, he felt a slight twinge of sadness. To-night would be the last night he'd arrive here as a resident. From to-morrow on, he'd only be a guest, and no longer part of the Hotchner family.

He also launched himself at Hotch as soon as the man opened the door and let them in, hugging him hard around the waist. He wasn't sure how much hugging he could get in as an adult, and maybe he wouldn't even want to anymore, so it was better to stock up a little while he still could. Eventually, however, Spencer remembered Karen, and turned to give her a hug, too. "Thank you so much for supervising me. I'm sure it wasn't always easy for you."

To his surprise, Karen blinked back tears. "In a way, Spencer, it was like having a wonderful grandson, not always easy, but definitely worth it. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," he said.

"Good luck to-morrow." She turned abruptly and walked away, and Spencer went into the apartment. Jack was there, sitting on the couch looking sadly at him.

"Hi, Jack," he said.

"Dad says you're going away to-morrow," Jack said. "He says you're not going to live here anymore."

"That's right," Spencer said, sitting down in the easy chair across from him. "My, uh, my mom doesn't need to be in the special hospital anymore, so I'm going back to Las Vegas so she can take care of me again."

It reminded him of how he'd dreamed that his mother had been healed and that she'd married Hotch, and how everything had been perfect for that one moment. He managed a wistful smile.

"But I don't want you to go," Jack said. "I've got used to having you as my brother, even though you're not here half the time."

"I've got used to having you as my brother, too," Spencer admitted. "And I'll miss you so much. But … it's my mom!"

"Maybe your mom could come here to take care of you?" Jack suggested hopefully. "Then we could at least see each other."

"No …" Spencer hadn't anticipated that particular angle and didn't know what to say.

"I wanted us to go swimming this weekend now that Dad's home." Jack kicked at the floor with the toe of his sneaker.

"Well, I wouldn't be able to swim anyway with this on my arm." Spencer held up the splint.

"We could play soccer, or just go to the library, or something_,_" Jack whined. "Dad's always gone, you're always gone, I wanted us to do something together!"

"I'm sorry," Spencer said, feeling even more guilty that they were going to leave Jack behind yet again the next morning.

"I'm sorry, too," said Hotch. "But life isn't always fair, is it, Jack?"

"No," Jack murmured, but Spencer could tell he was only paying lip service to the idea, because he wanted so badly for life to be fair to everybody, all the time.

"Sometimes what seems unfair to us is actually beneficial to another person," Spencer said, explaining something he'd figured out long before he'd started studying philosophy. Jack looked at him questioningly, and he found a metaphor that Jack would better comprehend. "Sometimes your team wins, and you're happy, right? But the other team wanted to win, so they're not happy. But when they win, they're happy, and you're not. You're sad that I'm leaving, but I'm happy because I can be with my mom again. Does that help you understand?"

"I guess." Jack shrugged.

"All right, I think it's way past time to brush your teeth and get your pyjamas on," Hotch said, and Jack dragged himself unwillingly to the bathroom with Spencer following.

This was the last time, Spencer thought as he lay in the lower bunk, the last time he would sleep here. He wondered what Hotch was going to do with the bunk bed now, if he'd get rid of it and get Jack's old bed back, or just keep it. That reminded him of his clothes, and he made a note to offer his old clothes to JJ for Henry, even if some of the underwear was marked with a big S. The memory made him smile.


	27. Chapter 27

28 July 2012

Spencer had been vaguely afraid that he would have another nightmare, this time of Garibaldi giving him a smack or worse, but instead, he awoke in the morning with no memory of any unpleasant dreams. He got up and followed a delectable smell into the kitchen, where Hotch was standing at the stove.

"You're supposed to be resting and recovering, not making … are those chocolate chip pancakes?" Spencer asked, peering at the griddle.

"One last treat," said Hotch. "Is Jack awake yet?"

"I don't think so."

"You want to go wake him up?"

"I'm awake," Jack said with a yawn, coming into the kitchen too. "Chocolate chip pancakes? Cool! Thanks, Dad!"

"Jack, can you get the orange juice out of the fridge?" Hotch asked, and Jack carried the plastic pitcher over to the table. Spencer was allowed to transport the maple syrup which Hotch handed down to him from the cabinet shelf.

Hotch prudently waited until they were finished eating before he said, "All right, Jack, JJ and Henry are going to come over and pick you up soon."

"Where are we going?" Jack asked. "And what about you and Spencer?"

"Spencer and I have to go to some very boring meetings before he can go see his mother," Hotch said, which was the excuse that Spencer had come up with. "It wouldn't be fun for you."

Jack slumped in disappointment, even when Hotch said, "I think JJ wants to take you and Henry swimming. You can take the Ping Pong Pals, too, and teach Henry how to play."

"I wanted to go with you," Jack said. "And Spencer."

"I know, buddy, and I'm sorry that you can't come."

"JJ? What about Will?" Spencer asked, and Jack chimed in, too. "Is Uncle Will coming?"

"He had to take a shift at the last moment. JJ sent me a text," Hotch said. "Okay, Jack, let's go get your swimming things so you'll be ready when JJ gets here."

Jack went along, slowly becoming resigned to having a active morning with friends instead of doing something boring with his dad.

Spencer began to carry the dishes a few at a time to the kitchen sink, sad that JJ wasn't going to be there for his big moment. He only dropped one fork on his way and didn't break anything, which was a relief, because he didn't want to start his first day as an adult again with a time-out. He and Hotch finished at approximately the same time, and Jack flopped down on the sofa in the living room with one of his Cat books to wait. He didn't have to read for long before the doorbell rang, and Hotch opened the door to let JJ and Henry in.

"Hi, Jack, ready to go swimming?" JJ asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," Jack said.

"Let's say good-bye to Spencer and then we can get in the car." JJ came over to where Spencer had stood up. "I guess this is the big day, huh?"

"Yes," he said, and threw his arms around her. Another last thing – he'd never hug her again in this body, from this angle. She hugged back. "Good luck, young Spencer. And good-bye."

"Good-bye, JJ," he said. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome. You are always welcome." Her eyes looked suspiciously bright as she turned away.

Spencer reached out to hug Jack next. "Good-bye, Jack. Thank you for being my brother. I won't forget you, and I'll send you a postcard from Las Vegas."

"Good-bye, Spencer," Jack said, hugging back quickly and then letting go. "I'll miss you."

There was the slightest hitch to JJ's voice as she said, "All right, boys, let's go!"

Jack waved, then grabbed his bag and went out. Spencer said, "Good-bye, Henry," but Henry only returned a casual, "Bye!" and raced after Jack. JJ gave him one last look and smiled bravely, then pulled the door shut. It suddenly seemed very quiet and very empty in Hotch's apartment.

Spencer went into the bedroom, blinked away a few tears, then grabbed his go-bag and dragged it behind him as he came out again. "I need to get a few things from my apartment, and I can take these clothes along and wash them before I give them away."

"Then let's go," said Hotch and texted the rest of the team to meet them there. Up in the bedroom of his apartment where he hadn't slept for ten months, Spencer pushed his spare sets of child-sized clothing, including Boney, into his dirty clothes basket, then replaced them with adult-sized clothing and shoes and the case containing his old, adult-prescription glasses.

"Don't forget a razor," Hotch said, and Spencer put a hand to his smooth chin with a smile as he realised, "I haven't even thought about shaving for almost a year now."

He put his adult toiletries bag into the go-bag, then asked Hotch to help him gather up all the newspapers and magazines that arrived in the post since the last time he'd been home so that he could fold them in, too. They were almost the only thing in his apartment that wasn't dusty. Because he was certain there'd be plenty of time for reading at the SHIELD base while they did their tests, he added a few favourite books, just in case. After a long moment of thought, he added his messenger bag as well.

The rest of the team met them there, and Spencer handed the keys to his car over to Morgan, who accepted them with a smile. "It's so hard to remember that you were actually once big enough to drive, Pretty Boy."

"Ha ha," Spencer said.

"Come on, Baby Girl," Morgan said to Garcia. "Anybody else want to ride in the Reid-Mobile?"

Rossi went over, but Emily stayed, and when Spencer got into the car seat, she sat down in the back next to him for the long ride. The closer they got, the more restless Spencer felt, and Emily, sitting on the back seat beside him, grinned knowingly when she saw him twitch. Finally, they were at the gate, with the guard coming out of the guardbox to check their authorization. Spencer said, "Hotch, you have to give him the project name and password."

Hotch did so, and the guard leaned down and peered into the car, smiling a little when he saw Spencer.

"And the car behind us belongs to us, too," Hotch added.

"Yes, sir," the guard said. "Go to Entrance B, that's around the back of that building there, and I'll let Dr Kapoor know you're here."

He lifted the barrier so they could all drive through, and while they drove around, Emily said, "Did they seriously name you Project Mustardseed? Like from the New Testament?"

"I suppose," Spencer replied, but he was too distracted by the thought of what was going to happen in just a few minutes to engage in any kind of meaningful conversation about growth or faith. He could barely wait until Hotch had parked and turned the engine off before unbuckling himself out of the car seat – which he would never need again! – and scrambling eagerly out of the car.

Entrance B was a regular door at the side of a much larger loading entrance. It was locked, and they had to wait for Dr Kapoor and another guard to open it from the other side. "Agent Hotchner! Dr Reid!"

"The rest of the team wanted to be here, too," Hotch explained as they went in. "I hope that's not a problem."

"Oh, not at all, there's plenty of room," Dr Kapoor said, sweeping one hand out to indicate the warehouse-sized chamber. The re-aging machine was in the middle, a kind of tube-shaped structure poised on long articulated legs over a huge mat. There were steps leading up to a platform on one side, with a control board visible, and on the other side of the machine was a loading crane, which Spencer supposed was for the pigs and other test animals. Other scientists were coming in, too, but kept mostly on the opposite side of the machine.

"Well, uh, I guess if you're going to watch, just make sure you stay outside the circle," Dr Kapoor said, indicating the marking on the floor. There were also cameras set up on tripods just inside it. "I wasn't expecting an audience, so we don't have any chairs, I'm afraid."

"Hotch, can you help me get this off?" Spencer asked, holding up his splint.

"Sure," said Hotch, and carefully undid the velcro straps. Spencer's arm felt floppy and weak without it, and there was still a bit of pain when he reached to undo his watch, so he extended his other arm to Hotch, too. "Can you take my watch off?"

"Did you bring some bigger clothes?" Dr Kapoor asked. "I don't think we have anything here, we didn't exactly bother to dress the pigs."

"Yes, I have some," Spencer said, and with Hotch's help, he got into what he'd already decided would be a good outfit to wear during the change, one of his favourite button-down shirts, and a pair of plain underpants without Cats on them that he had to hold up with his left hand. Had he ever really been big enough that they fit? It seemed so long ago. Finally, he placed his old glasses on top of his go-bag. "All right. I'm ready."

"Can I have one last hug?" Emily asked quickly, and Spencer gave her one. She lingered for a moment with her arms around him. "I'm kind of sad to be saying good-bye to little you, but I'm happy you'll be back to your old self again, too."

"Yeah," Spencer said. "Thanks so much for everything you did for me."

"Hey, stop hogging the kid," Morgan said. "I want a hug, too."

Emily let go, and Morgan got his turn. He didn't say anything until Spencer said, "Thank you, Morgan, for everything," and then he just quietly said, "Yeah."

"Me, next," Garcia said, enveloping Spencer and lifting him off his feet. "Good-bye, my half-pint hero, my baby Bucky –"

"Garcia!" Spencer squirmed even more when he thought he heard Dr Kapoor repeat the two words in amusement.

"—my junior genius, my cutie patootie – "

"Garcia, would you stop, you're making me want to puke," Emily groaned.

"—my undersized and overbrained friend," Garcia finally finished, and Spencer spluttered, "Overbrained?"

He was aware of Dave, Morgan, and Hotch, all laughing and shaking their heads.

"For your size, I meant," Garcia said. "So sorry, I didn't mean it negatively! It just came out! Sorry, sorry. I'll get used to calling you Junior G-man again. Or maybe Senior G-man now. No, wait, that sounds like senior citizen. How about –"

"Garcia, just call me Spencer. Or Reid," Spencer said.

"Okay, I can do that. Spencer. Reid. I'm shutting up now."

She stepped back, and Spencer turned to Rossi. As they embraced, Spencer whispered, "Thank you, Nonno."

Rossi let him go, smiling slightly, and then it was Hotch's turn.

"Thank you for taking care of me," Spencer said quietly. "Thanks for … for being my dad."

He could say it now, now that the time was over, now that it would never be official.

"You're very welcome, Spencer," Hotch replied. "Thank you for trusting me."

Spencer finally let go, and they both wiped tears from their eyes. The others pretended not to notice until the moment was broken by Dr Kapoor asking, "Anybody else you want to hug?"

Spencer looked around the circle, but since the only person left was Dr Kapoor himself, he shook his head, then took off his child-sized glasses and handed them to Hotch.

"All right, then, let's make that one big jump for man size." Dr Kapoor grinned at his own joke and led the way to the stairs. Spencer followed eagerly and look down while Dr Kapoor turned the cameras on and started all the other sensors. Inside was the circle of blue light that he remembered.

"Whenever you're ready," Dr Kapoor said, and Spencer jumped without hesitating.

He remembered how the de-aging machine had compressed him, squeezing him down as though he were in a black hole. This machine was completely opposite, stretching him out to the limits of the blue light, blowing a bubble out of him as though he were gum, pulling him like pizza dough or taffy until he thought he would rip in a thousand places at the same time. And then he was falling, and landing, and everything hurt, and there was something like gravel in his mouth, knocking against his teeth.

Spencer rolled over and spit the tiny pieces out. What were they? When he was sure he'd got them all, he peered closer. Were those … teeth? But he still had his! And then he realised – they were baby teeth, all of them, even molars, no doubt forced out by the re-aging process. He sat back in relief, running his tongue around his mouth, then grinned. And then he remembered. The re-aging process! He looked at his arm. The bruise from the break had disappeared, and when he rubbed it, he thought he could feel the tiniest bump on the bone, but no pain. His hand, his arm, his whole body was adult-sized!

Spencer sat back and inspected his left knee. No scars. So the machine had really just aged the cells he'd had, it hadn't simply rewound the de-aging process. Fascinating. He got to his feet, noticing that his "growing pains" were already fading, and checked the rest of himself. His shirt fit. His underpants fit. He rubbed his face and felt stubble under his fingertips.

"It worked!" he called, and his voice sounded strange in his own ears. More adult. He'd never be a baritone like Hotch, but his voice was definitely lower than it had been when he was a child. "It worked!"

His team was just a blur, but he could hear them clapping. Spencer tried to bounce, but the mat was not a trampoline, so he simply jumped off and moved joyfully towards the others. It took him a few strides before he realised what he was doing, and then he happily exclaimed, "Look, Hotch, I'm skipping! I can skip!"

"You sure can, buddy," Hotch said. When Spencer heard the laughter in his voice, he realised he was still acting like a child, and sheepishly stopped, then tried to walk the rest of the way with something approaching dignity. As he got closer, he could see that Hotch was holding something out.

"Here are your glasses," he said, and Spencer took them. He put them on, and the smiling faces of his team came into focus, all of them close to or just below his eye level. No more craning his neck to look up at them!

"My, how you've grown," Rossi said, and Garcia gave him a little punch in the arm. "I wanted to say that!"

"Welcome back, Pretty Boy," Morgan said, and then they all took turns congratulating and embracing him. Garcia pulled out her phone and took a picture of Spencer, and a security guard appeared almost instantly at her side. "No pictures of the machine."

"I wasn't taking a picture of the machine, I was taking a picture of Dr Reid," she protested, and showed him. "See?"

"Part of the machine's in the background," he said. "Delete it."

"That? That could be part of anything," Garcia snapped, but she deleted the photo, then turned so that the machine was at her back, and tried again. Spencer turned his face and grinned broadly at her phone.

"Is that better?" Garcia asked, extending her phone for inspection.

"Better," the guard said. "Just don't take too many."

Garcia sighed, but Spencer saw her wait until the guard had turned away before she started pressing the button again. He had the distinct feeling that her phone angled down towards his bare legs more than once, and suddenly wished he had a pair of trousers on.

"See, I told you the machine would work! Now stop shoving me, I just want a closer look at the test subject," came a loud voice from the other side of the room. Spencer looked over, and wasn't surprised to see that Dr Sakenfeld was alive and well, and accompanied by his own guard, who was preventing him from getting any closer.

Dr Kapoor came over, looking very eager, and asked, "Can we get started on the tests now, Dr Reid?"

"Yes, of course," he said, then indicated Dr Sakenfeld. "Is he going to be observing?"

"Nope," Dr Kapoor said. "He did his part, he got his reward of getting to watch, and now he goes back to his cell while the rest of us get all the fun."

If Spencer had any sympathy for the man, he would have grimaced at the thought of the cell, but he didn't, and so he merely turned back to his friends.

"Take all the time you need to visit your mother and do what you have to do," Hotch said. "We'll see you back in the office when you're ready."

"Thanks," Spencer said, and without thinking, he added, "Oh, by the way, I think I might need a new prescription for my glasses, and I'll definitely need new contacts as well."

Hotch said, "Well, make an appointment at your opthalmologist, Reid. You're an adult now."

Spencer blinked, then sheepishly realised what he'd done, and grimaced in chagrin.

The others either smiled or laughed outright, and Morgan clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Pretty Boy. It took you a while to get used to being a kid, it'll probably take you a while to get used to being an adult again."

"Yeah," Spencer agreed.

It was a weird feeling, seeing them all turn to leave, especially Hotch, but as Spencer had just been reminded, he was an adult now, and he didn't need a substitute dad or even Bony at his side. It didn't stop him from wishing for a friend, though, just for a moment. But then he straightened up to his full height, picked up his bag, and followed Dr Kapoor in the other direction.

* * *

"Dr Reid?" Dr Jesson exclaimed in surprise as they met in the reception hall. "You've grown - you're back!"

"Hi, yeah, um, I'm back." Spencer smiled awkwardly and squirmed a little under her scrutiny. "How's my mom?"

"She's doing very well to-day." Dr Jesson hesitated, then said, "I felt so bad for you, the last time you were here."

"It was pretty awful," Spencer admitted. "I hope things go better this time."

"I think they will. Your mother will be so happy to see you. She's been wishing you'd come to see her more often, despite all your letters. She's in the day room now, you can go on in."

"Thanks."

At the doorway, Spencer hesitated for a moment. Would she recognise him? But then he told himself firmly that there was only one way to find out, and went over to her. "Hi, Mom."

"Spencer!" His mom glanced up in delighted surprise. "It's been so long … is that really you?"

"It's really me," he said, taking in all the little differences from the last time he'd seen her. "I just wanted to visit you. Like you said, it's been so long."

"I was just thinking of you, and now here you are," she said. "Come on, sit down and tell me what you're up to."

I'm up to six foot one again, Spencer thought facetiously, but bit it back and asked instead, "Actually, Mom, can I give you a hug first?"

"A hug? Why?"

"Just because," Spencer said. "Because I had a bad dream last night and I just want a hug."

"Bad dreams? That's what comes from working for the government," his mom said, but she stood up and embraced him. When she let go, however, the timing felt right, and he didn't feel deprived of the close contact. His craving for a mom hug had been completely satiated.

"Do you feel better now?" his mother asked.

"Yeah. Thanks, mom." He stepped back and glanced around for a chair, then pulled one over. "Actually, it's been so long I wasn't sure you would recognise me."

"Oh, Spencer," his mom said. "I'll always recognise you. How could I not?"

That simple question, combined with the memory of what had happened the last time he'd visited her, should have been enough to bring tears to his eyes, but somehow, it didn't. He just smiled in relief until she gave him a funny look.

"I'm just happy you still know who I am," he explained.

His mom gave him a more searching look. "Does this have something to do with that dream?"

"Yes, a little, but it's over now. It's okay. Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about what I was like when I was a baby. Did I cry a lot?"

His mom stopped to consider. "You could be fussy if you got bored, but you certainly weren't a colicky baby or anything like that. You seemed pretty happy to me as long as you had something to concentrate on. That's why I read a lot to you, and showed you my books. Once you learned how to talk, you used to talk all the time, asking questions, thinking things through out loud, but you only really cried if you got hurt. Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about being a child, and children in general."

His mother narrowed her eyes just a little and leaned closer. "Anything you want to tell me … in general?"

"In general, I haven't even met the right girl yet," Spencer admitted. How could he, when he'd spent the last ten months of his life as a five-year-old boy? Although, he thought briefly, that could change now that he was back to his normal age.

"She'd have to be pretty special to be worthy of you," his mom said with a smile.

But Spencer didn't want to talk about prospective girlfriends, and not just because there weren't any - yet. "Tell me more about when I was young. Did I have nightmares?"

"I don't think so," his mother said. "Whenever you told me about your dreams, they sounded more like adventures than nightmares."

So all his nightmares and all the crying had been mostly due to the stress and the emotions of having been de-aged, then. He hadn't had any nightmares since he'd been re-aged. He hadn't even missed Boney. Of course, it had only been a few days, but now Spencer was hopeful for the future. Then he thought of another question. "What was I like when I was around four or five?"

"Oh, like I said, you were happy and curious and you talked a lot. You liked to tell everybody what you were learning. That changed …" his mother's voice trailed off as she tried to remember. "Maybe about the time you went to school? I don't know. Maybe some of the other children told you to shut up once too often."

"Yes." Spencer remembered that it hadn't only been other children.

"You learned how to read so early, and then you tried to read every book in the house, even if you didn't quite understand them yet. Your father tried to put some of his law books on the top shelves, but you'd climb up and pull them down so you could read them and ask me what it all meant. Nothing more interesting than what you weren't allowed to have!"

They shared a smile, and then his mother went on, "He'd come home and see that some of the corners were bent from where they'd fallen, and then he'd get mad. He boxed up a lot of them and put them in the attic. I never hid my books from you. I used to read to you as much as I could. Those were wonderful times, weren't they, Spencer?"

"Yes," Spencer said. "Those were the best times. Mom, if I get a book from your room, will you read to me again?"

"Sure, why not?" his mother replied.

Spencer got a book and sat down next to his mother, leaning his head on her shoulder and thinking about how much he'd wanted exactly this at Thanksgiving. After a few pages, however, he realised quite suddenly that this need had also been satisfied and that he didn't want to be read to anymore. He lifted his head up, and shifted ever so slightly away, and to his relief, his mother stopped after one more page.

"My throat is dry. I need a drink," she announced.

There was a water cooler over to one side, and Spencer filled two of the plastic cups from the tray on the nearby table. He gave the yellow one to his mother, and kept the green one for himself. His mother drank most of it in one go, and while she was sipping the rest, Spencer said, "Would you like it if I read to you now, Mom?"

"Of course, Spencer," she agreed. "I love to hear your voice, and you almost never make a mistake. I should take you to some of my classes next time, show my students how it's done."

Smiling, Spencer lifted up the book and began to read. Everything felt back to normal now; he was an adult again in both mind and body. His second childhood was over. He should check whether the team had been called out into the field again, and fly out to join them – but not before getting that postcard for Jack.

He didn't know if he'd ever find the right girl, he didn't know if he'd ever have children, but if it happened, he knew he wanted to be a father just like Hotch.

The End

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Thank you all for reading, favouriting, and following. I also appreciate reviews. :-)


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